A Destitute Duke Read online

  Duncan opened his mouth to thank his half-brother yet again, but he was forestalled by a haughty female sniff.

  “Though no one has inquired, my person is much recovered. I must change my gown. I fear it is badly soiled. After which, I am going to the dining room to finish my coffee. If anyone needs me, though I can’t imagine why anyone should as Eleanor and Her Grace have things well in hand, I can be found there.” Lady Florence bestowed a winsome smile on Lord Miles. With a curt nod of the head at Duncan, she turned smartly, and, there was no other way to describe it, glided off, head held high, with a decided sway to her hips.

  Lord Miles followed Lady Florence’s departure with a quizzical look. “I can’t imagine what…” He shook his head. “I’ve never seen Lady Florence in such ill-humor. She is normally most pleasantly disposed.”

  In spite of his irritation with the woman, Duncan’s eyes were drawn to the curvaceous body undulating beneath the sheer white muslin garments Lady Florence wore, now blown by the wind into hugging every swell of generous breast, tiny waist, and round buttock, of shapely thigh and trimly turned calf. “I’ve been too long without female company if I’m attracted to that mettlesome bit,” he muttered and turned toward the carriage drive to observe the progress of the four men who now carried the major toward the manor house, accompanied by Her Grace and Miles’ wife.

  Chapter Two

  Florence fought to restrain the tears she’d held back all morning until she was alone in her bedroom and then crumpled onto a side chair and cried silently into her handkerchief. The graphic, bloody scene she’d encountered swept her back to the horror, grief, and shock of Percy’s death. The events of this morning had taken her by surprise, ambushing her where she was most vulnerable, and she had responded in a manner even she considered disgraceful, one lacking in kindness and goodwill and one very unlike herself. She was utterly mortified and ashamed in addition to the acute distress of those tender feelings that differentiated the female sex from the male.

  Eleanor’s joyful announcement that she was to bear Miles a child had tipped her apple cart upside down and left her with wheels spinning in the air. She already fought to conquer her uncharitable envy of the love Eleanor had found… and now this development. Her tears ran more profusely. She hadn’t even properly congratulated her dear friend on her good news as her first response had been a reprehensible, “Why you? Why you and not me?” Thank God she hadn’t voiced that unworthy thought but had merely announced she couldn’t possibly deal with such momentous news at such an early hour and had turned and fled to the dining room to compose herself. Let them ascribe her behavior to her well-known eccentricity. She was truly glad for her dear friend; she truly, truly was… only…

  How she ached for children of her own, little sprites to hold to her breasts and nurture, but children required she find a husband. She could have her pick from several suitors, could be married in a fortnight were she to say the word, but every eligible man she knew bored her unto death and would straight away disallow her any financial independence and regulate her free and easy behavior into rigid compliance with convention. Her financial investments would no longer be conducted at her sole discretion, and she could kiss good-bye to her whiskey and cigarillos and the high perch phaeton she so loved to tool around London in.

  Behavior viewed as audacious but allowed in a widow would be roundly condemned in a wife, and no male would ever be convinced that a female intellect directed all her many foreign investments. Everyone knew female brains weren’t capable of comprehending much beyond basic mathematics or how to read and write on an elementary level. The thought that a female would engage in sophisticated money management, speak several languages, and read Greek and Latin, would be believable when pigs flew.

  Besides, she couldn’t tolerate most of the gentleman she knew at tea on a daily basis much less enjoy such intimacies with them as would result in a child. She’d been widowed for ten years and fiercely protected her independence ... but lately? She was nearing thirty years of age. Her candle was more than half burnt. Recently, she’d considered settling for the boring and commonplace simply to have children.

  She’d no more gotten her emotions calmed, then must needs she follow Lord Miles, Eleanor, and the Dowager Duchess Julia as they charged off to meet the two military men riding down the long approach to Fairwood Manor.

  The fact she had fainted took her aback. She couldn’t recall another time in her life she’d done so. Not even after Percy had died in that dreadful duel—little more than murder, really, whatever name gentlemen chose to give it. A “duel of honor”, indeed. She’d seen nothing honorable about it at all. At all! Of what use was honor when your lover lay dead in your arms?

  She rose and walked to the wash basin, dipped her handkerchief in the water and patted her face and eyes to remove the effects of her tears and perspiration from her brisk trot down the carriageway. Satisfied she’d done her best, she rang for the woman doing duty as her maid. With a shake of her head, she reflected that she should have brought Tillie, but how could she as the young woman was heavy with child? Everyone and everything she knew was increasing, right down to the Fairwood barn cat. It made her quite melancholy. She stood erect and raised her chin. Enough moping. Get on with it.

  Sometime later, freshly dressed, she descended to the dining room and rang for tea. Bringing a cup of tea to her mouth, she sipped gently while snugged into a dining room wingchair that she’d reversed so she could view the winding carriage drive and forecourt of Fairwood. Lord Miles’ manor house, though small for its type, was delightfully situated on a high hill overlooking green pastures bordered by stone walls. It made for a soothing, pastoral vista.

  In pensive silence, her thoughts dwelt on Captain Duncan Everleigh. Even filthy and reeking of horse and sweat, he was a handsome, virile specimen—with a most unfortunate temperament. She’d regained consciousness far sooner than she’d let on and had had the misfortune to hear his desire to leave her in the dirt of the drive. While she had been perfectly capable of walking, she’d decided that instant, as penance for his ungentlemanly comments, he would carry her the entirety of the carriageway to the manor house. Therefore, she remained as boneless as a limpet when he took her into his arms. With no apparent effort, she noted sourly. The conversation between him and Lord Miles had become so interesting she had abandoned her pretense and “regained consciousness” before they’d covered half the distance to the house. A fat lot of good it did her. She’d been bellows to mend and had nothing to show for it.

  Replaying the dialog in her mind, she regretted her prickly comments. Lord Duncan must think her a complete termagant. As he was Lord Miles’ brother and Eleanor’s brother-in-law, they were bound to cross paths on a regular basis, and it would be best to be on better terms. She breathed a lengthy sigh. Well…she’d mend her behavior and give him a pretty apology with much flattery and flirtatious smiles. Men were susceptible to that sort of thing. She’d no more determined to do precisely that when the party in question entered the dining room with the Dowager Duchess, Lord Miles, and Eleanor. She peeked around the wing of the chair and watched as they halted just inside the doorway.

  “I cannot thank you enough, Your Grace—”

  The Dowager Duchess raised her hand and put her forefinger on Lord Duncan’s lips. “You used to call me maman, Duncan. Will you not again?” Her grey eyes sent him a look of appeal.

  A pleased smile crossed his face, and he bowed slightly. “I have never been able to refuse you anything… maman. As I started to say, I will be able to continue my journey to London with some peace of mind knowing Major Abernathy is resting comfortably.” Lord Duncan bowed his thanks to Julia.

  “Ce n’est rien… it is of a nothing.” Her expression brightened. “I was greatly heartened by the words of Dr. Hickum. If the major exercises care and avoids infection, there is no reason he won’t recover fully. Now, if you will excuse me. I left my cook all sixes and sevens as to the menu for dinner. If we wi
sh to sit down to something edible, I must confer with him or risk dining upon some result of his well-exercised imagination.” With a graceful dip, she turned and left.

  “I’m sorry to abandon you, Duncan, I’d like nothing more than to sit for hours and catch up, but Lady Miles and I have some issues with the young horses we must attend to while there is still daylight. Please ring for tea, or help yourself to the brandy on the sideboard, whatever suits. We shouldn’t be very long.” Miles bowed, put his wife’s hand on his arm and with a smile from each, the couple left.

  Florence watched as Duncan strode further into the room, splashed some brandy into a crystal glass and moved to stand in front of the bay window, looking out at the same view she’d been enjoying. She composed herself and said brightly, “I must apologize for my inexcusable behavior this morning. You must think me a terrible shrew. I’m delighted to hear your friend has every chance of full recovery.” She held her smile as Duncan threw her a startled glance and turned to face her.

  “I beg your pardon. I didn’t realize you were there.”

  “No. The chair quite swallows me up. I would have spoken when you entered the room, but I hesitated to interrupt your conversation. I did not wish to compound my earlier rudeness and put myself even further into your bad graces.” She put her tea on the dining table behind her and stood, smoothing her gown. With the most winning smile she could assemble, Florence raised her gaze to meet his. “For reasons I’d rather not discuss, I was not at all myself this morning. My emotions had been thoroughly overset even before seeing your friend, and the sight of him, well…” She gestured with her hands in a fluttering, helpless manner. “May I please begin again? May we please pretend we have never met and are just this moment introduced?” She held his gaze with her sweetest smile and as much genuineness as she could summon.

  He made no attempt to disguise his skeptical study of her until the silence between them stretched uncomfortably long, and her smile became stiff and fixed. Just as she was about to flee the field waiving another white flag of apology, the starch in his posture relaxed, and he grinned with a soft chuckle and rueful shake of his head.

  Saints alive, why hadn’t he smiled sooner? He could charm the angels from heaven with a smile such as that. He’d certainly charmed her, and goodness knew she was no angel. She straightened her posture and held her shoulders back. Her interest in Lord Duncan Everleigh had taken an uptick. One might even say it had become quite… keen.

  “May I make so bold as to introduce myself, ma’am. Captain Duncan Everleigh, His Majesty’s 12th Light Dragoons at your service. I believe you are acquainted with my half-brother, Lord Miles.” He gave her a very correct bow, to which she responded with a very correct curtsey.

  “Lady Florence Lloyd-Smith, Captain. Formerly of St. Albans. After the death of my husband, I removed from the country, and I now reside in London.” Her eyes flirted with him. “I am very pleased to make your acquaintance.” She looked away innocently. “Even though you might not be a spy.” She flashed him an arch glance and grinned when he sputtered and broke into hearty laughter.

  “Minx.”

  “Sadly true, I’m afraid. I don’t know why Eleanor or Miles put up with me. I suspect they simply want a fourth at whist, though I play poorly as I lack the concentration required. I find cards boring.”

  He chuckled again. “I doubt you have read the terrain accurately...though there is something to be said for completing one’s table with those of lesser skill.” She chuffed in soft protest, and he winked. “Miles said something about you being his wife’s dearest friend. How long have you known each other?”

  “Eleanor and I were schoolgirls together. I was residing in London when Eleanor came out, and we reconnected.” She lifted a shoulder. “We cannot be less alike, but somehow, we became fast friends.”

  “Lady Miles seems a very… straightforward … woman.”

  She laughed softly. “Yes, Eleanor can be quite direct… not at all given to airs and graces. As you have spent some time with them today, you may have noticed she adores your brother. I love her dearly, and I am glad to see her so well settled.”

  “Though I have yet to see all of it, Fairwood does seem a tidy property. I would think most anyone could be happy here.”

  “Oh… no… neither she nor Miles use Fairwood as their residence. Eleanor happens to be the only child of the Earl of Rutledge. When she married, the Earl petitioned Parliament to allow him to adopt Lord Miles as his legal heir. Parliament granted his petition. Your half-brother will be the 11th Earl of Rutledge on the old Earl’s passing.”

  Duncan paused mid-sip. “The devil you say.”

  “Well… the devil frequently gets the better of my tongue, but Lord Miles will be the 11th Earl of Rutledge. That is God’s honest truth.”

  “What a turnaround in fortune. I’m glad for Miles. Lady Miles is some years older than my half-brother. They seem an unlikely pairing, though from casual observation, well-suited as both are horse-mad and as you said, enamored of each other. How did they come to meet and marry?”

  She had nothing to disclose about a subject still painful to Eleanor. Whenever her dear friend and her excessively handsome, former rake of a husband ventured into public eye, which admittedly, was not often, whispers flew, and the gossips of the ton shredded Eleanor’s character. Lord Miles fared better. He’d been a darling of high society, and his former patronesses were socially powerful women, so little of the dirt flung at Eleanor stuck to him. When Captain Everleigh arrived in London, he would hear the particulars soon enough. Some not-so-well-meaning soul would be sure to enlighten him in salacious detail. Florence smiled to remove any sting from her words. “I believe I’ve said enough about Lord and Lady Miles. You should address your questions to your brother.”

  A dark brow arched over one eye. “Ah… have I trespassed? I am all the more curious.”

  “I heard you tell Her Grace you wished to reach London with all dispatch. Will we have the pleasure of your company over dinner, or must you leave this evening? Regardless, you should take advantage of Eleanor’s Mayfair townhouse while in London. It is very well situated.”

  “Like that is it?” Amusement mixed with respect colored his response. “I will add untimely discretion to your sins.” He tossed the remnants of his glass back and set his tumbler next to her teacup on the dining table. “I anticipate more of your delightful person at dinner this evening. I leave for London with the morning light, and yes, I will be residing at the Mayfair townhouse while in town.” He bowed and straightened with a crooked smile. “Lady Lloyd-Smith.”

  With pleasure at the thought she would see more of the dashing Captain Everleigh, her gaze lingered on him as he strode from the room. She couldn’t name the last time a man had so engaged all her senses. Eleanor’s townhouse was but a scant five-minute walk from hers, she mused. Perhaps it was time to end her sojourn in the country and return to London.

  The morning sun had cleared the horizon and shown with the promise of another cloudless, hot day. Her tiger stood at the heads of her restive team as they pawed the ground with impatience.

  Lord Miles assisted her into her phaeton. “Eleanor sends her apologies for not being here to see you off, but she was not quite the thing this morning.”

  “Yes…well, tell her I understand and to send me a note when she wishes me to return for her confinement.”

  “I will do so.” He eyed her horses with interest. “These are Lord Seville’s bays. I don’t know how I failed to notice.”

  “Yes, I bought them from him last month, and I believe you and Eleanor were too lost in each other to note anything as ordinary as a team of horses.”

  His raised his eyebrows in amusement. “Quite possibly, though these bays are anything but ordinary. Well, I’d wish you Godspeed, Lady Florence, but I am familiar with how you handle the ribbons, and I know this team. The devil, not God, will have more to do with your speed. Instead, I will beseech your guardian angel to be particular
ly diligent.” He chuckled. “With this pair, you will probably overtake Lord Duncan as he left not an hour earlier.”

  Her friend’s altogether too handsome husband gave her the utterly charming smile that had won him into the bedrooms of the most influential aristocratic women—until his marriage to her friend. Since then, he’d proved an exemplary husband. She wished the world contained more like Lord Miles. She rolled her eyes at her wayward thoughts, gathered the reins into one hand and reached for her driving whip. With a practiced twist of her wrist, she shook out the lash and wrapped it once around the body of the whip.

  “Lady Florence, do have a care for yourself, please. My wife does not number so many among her close friends that she can afford to lose even one.”

  Florence gave Lord Miles a bright smile as she shortened the reins, took a feel of her horses’ mouths and then nodded to her tiger. “Give ‘em their heads, Barnaby.”

  The diminutive man released his hold, leaped to the side and sprang to his perch on the back of the phaeton just as the fractious animals made to lunge forward. Lady Florence immediately checked and steadied them into a spanking trot as she bowled around the central fountain and down the drive. Never taking her attention from her horses, she sang over her shoulder, “Tell Eleanor I’ll write.”

  The next miles flew underneath her as the bays demanded her undivided attention. Finally, she had crooned and cajoled her high-spirited pair into some semblance of good behavior and was able to relax and enjoy the exhilarating drive. “As light as their mouths are, Barnaby, I’ll still have sore shoulders tomorrow. I’ll cover a few more miles to let them settle in and then spring them for a good gallop.” She cast a laughing glance behind her at where her groom sat braced in his seat, his arms crossed tightly over his chest and a grim expression on his face.

  “Yes, Mum… they got the devil in ‘em today… and every day,” he muttered. “Not fittin’.”

  “I recognize that tone, sir, and I’ll have none of it.”