Desperate for a Duke Read online

  “Mother…” This time the word stuck to the inside of her throat, the sound coming out as a weak squeak. Marriage to a man much older than her with a temperament so vile he became an outcast? It was unfathomable, and yet… Heather swallowed. She couldn’t believe she was considering marrying such a man, duke or not. But on the other hand, it meant he may be just as desperate to wed. A duke can afford a special license.

  “We have nowhere to go.” Her mother took her hands, her eyes brimming with tears, pleading.

  Heather swallowed again, a sharp pain shooting down her throat like a dagger, lodging in her heart. “Yes, of course. I will meet him. I will explore every avenue. But what will we do in the meantime? We don’t know when or if he is returning to town.”

  “You leave that to me. Cousin Milton’s solicitor shouldn’t have trouble finding the Duke of Ablehill, not when Milton can benefit from this as well. You must write him a letter—a persuasive one, at that.”

  Heather wasn’t sure how persuasive her mother meant her to be, but later that morning, she penned the missive, a desperate and honest letter. She sanded, sealed it, and said a prayer. Please help this reach him in all haste, and please…let him not be as terrible as my thoughts have already made him out to be.

  * * *

  March 18, 1820

  My Lord Duke,

  It is with the greatest honor that I appeal to you. I am Heather Everly, daughter to the late Baron Everly. It is well known that you are searching for a wife. I would like to be considered. I am one and twenty and in very fine health. My family has come under hardship after my father’s death, and if you are willing to meet me at the Endervale house party, I think a match between us would serve both our needs. I know this letter is beyond forward but time is precious, and the sooner we can meet, the better. I await your reply.

  Yours,

  Heather Everly.

  Chapter 2

  Endervale house party, March 27, 1820

  Heather blinked and looked around the parlor filled with girls similar to her age. They chattered noisily in breathless high-pitched whines. They picked at passable embroidery with their needles, but the real purpose of this gathering was awaiting the arrival of the eligible bachelors, picking the ripest and wealthiest before the season began, and setting plans in motion to win a proposal.

  Heather wanted to laugh maniacally. She wasn’t waiting for some handsome rogue, who may or may not be searching for a wife. She was waiting for a duke, a duke to save her and her family from ruin. This might sound exciting to some, but in truth, it was awful. He was not some gallant young swain to pine for, but a gentleman much older than even her father, perhaps even old enough to be her grandfather. The Duke of Ablehill, known across England—and Heather was sure Europe as well—for his unsuccessful attempts to garner himself a young wife of respectable breeding. No duke had ever been so eschewed from society for his general unpleasantness. His friends were none, his enemies many. It was wholly unheard of for a man of such wealth to be so alienated from society.

  Heather was going to bind herself to him for the rest of her life—or at the very least, the rest of his. It was the one lure juicy enough to draw him out of hiding. The duke had been reclusive for more than a decade, but with a simple note to his secretary—a crudely bold action on Heather's part—she, and the rest of the guests of the Endervale house party, anxiously awaited his arrival. He would be made a spectacle, and so would Heather when she threw herself in his path, but so be it.

  It was marriage to him or abject poverty.

  Heather shuddered.

  “Dear, are you cold?”

  Her mother turned to her and tucked her shawl tighter around her shoulders.

  “No, Mother.” Heather smiled. Her mother had changed so much in the last year. Fine lines of worry had made a permanent residence on her brow, and purple shadows under her eyes told the secret of sleepless nights.

  “Don’t be nervous, my dear. It was fortuitous that the duke responded so quickly, and Lady Endervale could be convinced to invite us here to meet him.”

  “I know, I’m just…nervous.”

  “The other girls are going for a stroll. Will you take your sisters? A walk will ease your nerves rather than sitting here and waiting.”

  “Of course.” Heather stood, as did the other girls. They were almost all the same age, and most would be coming out this season with grand balls. Heather collected her younger sisters from the nearby sofa, and they trailed the other girls out the terrace doors. The day was fine, though a little cool. Heather pulled her shawl tightly around her and kept pace with the cloud of noise that seemed to follow the large group of girls. Her sisters were all smiles and wide eyes, eagerly absorbing what they perceived to be elegance from the older girls, in hopes that they too could be part of the festivities. Heather desperately hoped that would be true. She was falling behind the girls in their walk, still lost in her morbid thoughts of the future, when Lady Anabelle Darling and her sister, Lady Hazel, fell behind with her.

  “Why the long face?” Hazel asked and her sister sent her a withering glare.

  “You are abominably rude, Hazel.” Anabelle gave an exasperated sigh.

  “Abominably? Do you even know the meaning of the word?” Another withering glare was received.

  Heather smiled at the twins, who wore identical expressions of annoyance. They shared the same light blue eyes, long dark lashes, and winking dimples in both cheeks, but they differed in personality by leaps and bounds. The color of Hazel’s hair was a darker blonde, almost light brown, with streaks of honey. Anabelle was as blonde as they come and, in Heather’s opinion, the image of perfection. Heather could shamefully dislike her for her perfect looks, but Anabelle was just so nice.

  “I thank you for your concern, both of you.” Heather spoke up before true sisterly bickering began.

  “You looked very solemn. Was that better?” Hazel turned to her sister and asked testily.

  “Much. No one wishes to appear long in the face. Not that you do,” Anabelle assured Heather.

  “Oh, good,” Heather said with a sigh. Normally, Anabelle and Hazel were entertaining, the sort of friends you could rely on to create the fun instead of having to provide it, but today she didn’t have the energy for it. It felt taxing just to appear banal.

  “It’s nothing. I always find it odd sleeping under a new roof during these parties, and of course, sharing a bed with a sister who snores.”

  “Oh?” Anabelle said tentatively.

  Heather could hear the skepticism in her tone. As much as they wished otherwise, her family’s circumstances must be apparent. How much so, she didn’t know.

  “How are you enjoying your stay thus far?” Heather asked in an attempt to move the subject away from herself.

  “Well.” Anabelle cut her eyes to her sister. “I too have a noisy bed mate, but I suppose it is excitement that kept me awake last night. So many gentlemen will be arriving today, if some haven’t already.”

  “We should keep watch on the drive,” Hazel added quite seriously.

  “That would not do. What would they think of us?” Anabelle laughed.

  Heather sighed and looked forward. They were soon joined by other girls, falling back to join the chorus of giggles.

  “Good day, Miss Owens and Miss Angelwood,” Heather said in attempted brightness.

  Rose rolled her eyes. “I thought we had agreed to dispense with formalities. I insist we call each other by our given names,” she demanded.

  The other girls smiled and nodded.

  “Oh, all right,” Heather conceded. “Tis not a hill I wish to die on. Are we to be so familiar when the gentlemen arrive?”

  Rose pondered the question, her chestnut curls bouncing as they strolled. “You may have a point there. Heaven forbid an unwanted suitor take it upon himself to be so familiar.”

  Heather felt a bubble of laughter demanding to burst from her chest but suppressed it. If only she could have such luck with a sui
tor. “We will only use each other’s given names when it’s just us then.”

  “We should form a club,” Hazel offered, “and meet once a day to discuss our prospects.” Her eyebrows arched above her warm brown eyes.

  “Ooh, a splendid idea, Hazel!” Anabelle smiled and the other girls nodded in agreement.

  Heather mulled it over as they came to an open lawn bordered by tall hedges. This is where the lawn bowling would commence when the party officially got underway. A cluster of trees filled one corner, providing shade over a pair of tables and chairs. As a group, they walked to the tables, where they then began to spread out in smaller groups across the lawn, watching the footmen as they set up the game. Heather watched as her sisters, Violet and Prim, joined a circle around Lady Karen. Heather narrowed her eyes. Lady Karen was debuting this season and was already a crowd favorite for her honey-gold hair. She was extremely self-centered and as featherbrained as a down pillow. She was a very poor influence on Heather's sisters.

  “What should our club be called? I’ve always been jealous of men and their clubs,” Rose went on excitedly.

  “The Wallflower Club?” Charlotte spoke up at last. Heather looked at her and smiled. Charlotte was always so quiet, though she shouldn’t have been, with her dark brown hair and intelligent brown eyes. She could have suitors eating out of her hands, if she only spoke out more. Her father was a country squire, but Heather thought Charlotte’s quiet beauty would make up for the lack of station. If only beauty had been on Heather’s side, but her frizzy pale red hair and dull gray eyes left her looking washed out and bland.

  “I beg your pardon, but I am no wallflower,” Hazel scoffed.

  “Nor I,” Anabelle agreed.

  Heather watched as Charlotte wilted under the stronger personalities of Hazel and Anabelle. “A novel idea, but we need something that encompasses all of us,” Heather offered.

  “The Flower Club. Every day we can meet in the garden,” Hazel broke in.

  There was a chorus of nays in response.

  “Why don’t we think on it, and we can have a vote tomorrow? We can vote after tea,” Rose responded.

  The girls nodded. Heather looked over at her sisters again and saw they were strolling toward her. Violet had a peeved looked on her face and Primrose looked nervous.

  “What’s amiss?” Heather asked as Violet and Prim stepped into the shade.

  “Lady Karen is a half-witted trollop,” Violet growled. Giggles and gasps erupted from behind Heather.

  “Language, Violet. Where did you hear such words?” Heather reprimanded her, though she was pleased her little sister could see through Lady Karen’s shallow depths. “I hope you didn’t say that to her.”

  “No, but she deserved it. She said you were to be served up to a doddering duke as a sacrificial lamb for the sake of our family.”

  Heather clenched her teeth. She and her mother agreed that it was best Violet and Prim not know the details of their hurried jaunt to the Hampshire countryside. She could feel the speculative silence behind her. “And what did you say in return?”

  “Nothing,” Violet said nervously.

  “Violet,” Heather ground out. “What did you say?”

  “I said nothing, Heather. I excused us and returned to you. Is it true?” Violet’s eyes glittered angrily as they bore into Heather’s.

  Heather was stuck now. There was really no use keeping such a secret; it was impossible. She would only be affirming what everyone already knew. “I would never have put it so ghastly, but essentially, yes. We are here so I can meet the Duke of Ablehill and hopefully form an alliance.”

  “But he is old?” Violet asked flatly.

  Heather released an angry and humiliated breath. She took her sister’s arm and pulled her away from the others. Prim followed with wide, sad eyes. Heather felt as if she was destroying their hopes and dreams. “Yes, he is old, and yes, I will marry him to save our family. That is why we are here. We have no place to live, Violet. Cousin Milton won’t shelter us, and Mother sold the remainder of our things to fund this last trip to land the duke. If I don’t, we will have to go to work, and Prim will have to go to cousin Harriette in America. There will be no parties and no seasons for you. No more pretty dresses, no more bonbon’s with tea or chocolate in the mornings. I must marry him so that you two will have futures, and we will have a comfortable place to live.”

  “Are we going to have to marry old men?” Prim asked, her small voice shaking.

  Both her sisters looked as if their hearts were crumbling. “No. I’m the sacrificial lamb so you won’t have to be. It’s what big sisters do.” Heather met both her sister’s eyes, one at a time. Prim appeared relieved, too young to really understand at the tender age of ten and four. But Violet looked mutinous, her eyes wide and glistening, her jaw clenched. God bless Violet, Heather thought. She looked exactly how Heather felt, but with grim determination, she would never show it.

  Heather looked up and found her new friends staring at her sadly. She did indeed feel like the sacrificial lamb, but they looked at her as if she had been sentenced to death. “It’s not as awful as it seems,” she said to herself and to them. She was saved from having to say anything more by the commotion of carriages and riders on the other side of the hedge and a maid scurrying to Lady Karen. Judging from the looks of the excited faces of the girls surrounding Lady Karen, Heather suspected the gentlemen had arrived.

  As a group, they returned to the house and to the drawing room, where mothers and daughters waited eagerly. There were twelve eligible girls in all, including Heather. The ladies sat prettily as the gentlemen arrived and were introduced to the room at large.

  With each new gentleman’s arrival, the beat of Heather’s heart became more painful. They were all handsome young men of respectable birth—privileged, spoiled, and their future bright before them. It was enough to make her feel sick. The noise around her increased with excited chatter and greetings. She did her duty and looked up with a smile as each new guest was announced, but inside, she simmered with envy. Violet sat to her left, quiet and dreary, and her mother sat to Heather’s right with Primrose beside her. Heather took Violet’s hand and squeezed it. Even though Heather trembled inside, she would always be a source of comfort for her sister.

  Chapter 3

  Lord Rigsby, Lord Draven, and Mr. Calder.”

  Heather looked up. Lord Rigsby’s chestnut hair was perfectly pomaded, and his warm brown eyes sparkled. He had that charming and mischievous quality ladies fawned over. Lord Draven was the dark and brooding sort. His hair was jet black, and his eyes were a very dark shade of gray that Heather had never seen before. He was very intriguing. She moved her gaze to the next gentleman. Her heart thudded out of rhythm, and her lungs suddenly ceased to inflate. She blinked. He was taller than both gentlemen, his hair carefully styled and dark as night. His eyes were a bright deep blue, like bluebells. His gaze encompassed the entire room; his smile was so warm and friendly that Heather wanted to curl up like a cat with a spot of sunshine. That smile made her tingle all the way down her spine, warming her from the inside like hot chocolate.

  She was aware she was staring quite shamelessly, and pulled her eyes away to look around her to see if anyone had noticed. They hadn’t. Heather watched as the gentlemen were introduced to various guests, led by their hostess, Lady Endervale. An odd feeling pulled her gaze, and she looked up to find Mr. Calder staring at her. It startled her, but just as quickly, he looked away. The gentlemen were soon led before them and Lady Endervale made the introductions.

  Lord Rigsby bowed elegantly before them, his smile charming and kind. “Tis my honor to meet such a lovely family.”

  Heather wanted to laugh absurdly again, but she was pleased by the flattering bloom in her mother’s cheeks.

  “The honor is ours, Lord Rigsby. I hear your mother and sister will be joining us as well?

  “Yes, my lady. They will arrive this evening,” Lord Rigsby said. “May I introduce to you Vi
scount Draven, and our new acquaintance, Mr. Calder?”

  Both gentlemen bowed before Lady Everly. Heather watched as her mother preened before the handsome gentlemen and couldn’t help smiling again. “My daughters Miss Heather Everly, Miss Violet, and Miss Primrose.” Her mother said.

  Lord Draven bowed rather coldly, his expression of boredom unmoving. Mr. Calder smiled politely as he bowed, his eyes touching on Heather when he stood erect again. Heather had to pull her eyes away once more with difficulty. She looked down at her hands to hide her unease. It was then that Lady Endervale directed the gentlemen’s attention to another group for introductions.

  “Lord Draven and Lord Rigsby, surely you must not deprive the other ladies of your attention.” She smiled broadly at everyone as she herded them toward another group. They hastily bowed goodbyes as Lady Endervale carried them off with the tenacity of an owl snatching a mouse from the ground. “Your attention is certainly wasted there,” she was heard saying as they moved away. Heather’s head snapped up in shock as she turned to watch the woman depart.

  “Well, the nerve of that woman—”

  “Violet,” Lady Everly’s admonishment cut her off.

  Heather looked down again, but it was impossible not to notice the shining hessians in the periphery of her view. Mr. Calder had remained.

  “Mr. Calder, is it?” Lady Everly smiled. “You are well acquainted with Lord Rigsby?”

  Mr. Calder looked as comfortable as a sheep among wolves. Heather looked up tentatively, aware her cheeks were quite possibly as red as raspberries.

  Mr. Calder turned to Lady Everly with a polite smile. “Actually, I only just met them a moment ago. I’m afraid it was assumed by the butler that I was with them.”

  “Interesting. Please sit and tell us about yourself,” Lady Everly bid.

  Mr. Calder obliged and Heather relaxed a bit. He positively loomed while standing.