Duchess by Mistake Read online

  "I have no idea."

  "Then I understand if you wish to retract your offer."

  "No one forced me to come here tonight. It's a marriage I want." If only he could mean those words.

  Haverstock nodded solemnly and left the chamber.

  * * *

  No matter how humiliated one was and no matter how mortified one was over one's scandalous situation, one simply had to eat. Elizabeth regretted that she'd sent away the uneaten tray for she now realized how terribly hungry she actually was. She'd not eaten since she'd partaken of toast and tea that morning. Perhaps she could slip out of her bedchamber and stealthily make her way down to the kitchen.

  Still wearing the same periwinkle gown she'd worn on her disastrous visit to Aldridge House, she began to creep down the stairs. When she reached the entry corridor, the door to Haverstock's library opened, and her brother came strolling out. "Oh, there you are, Lizzie. You have a visitor." He waved his arm toward the library. "Right this way."

  She most particularly did not want to see a caller right now--even if she was wearing her most becoming dress. Unfortunately, she was not courageous enough to defy her commanding brother. It was one thing to turn him away from her bedchamber, but she could hardly stomp her foot and refuse to do as he bid her now. Now that she'd left the security of her locked room.

  Her brow raised in query, she reluctantly moved toward the library, opened the door, and started into the chamber. The room was dark. Its only source of light came from the fire blazing in the hearth and an oil lamp burning upon the desk. She saw that a man rose as she entered. As she moved closer, her breath caught. It was the Duke of Aldridge! Obviously, he was the most debauched man in all of England. And Italy, too, she imagined!

  She was powerless to prevent the red, hot heat from rushing to her cheeks. Facing him made her recall that awkward moment when she had seen his glistening flesh. Every inch of it. Yet as the duke stood in her brother's library, effecting a courtly bow to a humiliated maiden, she could almost forget his wickedness.

  Now he looked ever so proper dressed in well-fitted gray breeches, a fine black jacket, and snowy white cravat tied beneath a pensive face. He could have cut a dashing figure at Almack's. And this brooding-looking, dark-haired man now standing before her would undoubtedly be the most handsome man to grace its chamber in years.

  Inarticulate sounds emanated from her vocal chords, then she spun back toward the door.

  He raced to bar her progress. "I beg that you not go away before I have the chance to apologize to you for . . ." Setting a gentle hand to her arm, he swallowed. "For this afternoon. All I can say in my defense is that I thought---"

  "You thought I was Belle Evans." Even in her innocence, Elizabeth had heard of the most notorious courtesan in London. Once Elizabeth had leave to think on the duke's exclamation that afternoon, she realized who he had been expecting to come strolling through his bedchamber door. Which still did not diminish her disgust with his behavior. To think that a tryst with a trollop was uppermost in his mind his first day home in half a decade!

  He nodded gravely. "I had reason to believe she was coming to my chamber--but not for the purpose you must imagine." He shook his head as if he had blundered. "Forgive me for introducing so delicate a subject. I am deeply sorry."

  She drew a deep breath and squared her shoulders. "I should never have gone to your house without a chaperon. I am deeply sorry." Then she shook her head as if she had blundered. "I assure you it was never my intention to accuse you of compromising my virtue, never my intention to wrangle a marriage proposal from my brother's dearest friend."

  "Nevertheless, I feel I have compromised your virtue."

  Suddenly, she realized why he was here. Her brother had forced him into marriage with her--a marriage neither of them wanted. She had thought she couldn't be more humiliated than she'd been that afternoon.

  She'd been wrong. "No, no, no!" She held up a hand. "If you mean to offer for me, I mean to refuse."

  His dark brows quirked. "Haverstock did not force me to come here tonight."

  "You can say nothing to persuade me that you favor a marriage with me."

  "I may not be able to make you see the truth, but I shall try. Why do you think I came back to England?"

  She felt his dark gaze boring into hers but was powerless to speak.

  "I wished to find a suitable wife, and you must know how agreeable I find an alliance between our two families."

  Her spine stiffened, and she put hands to hips. "But, your grace, I do not wish to be married."

  "Are your affections engaged?"

  "No. I mean to be a spinster."

  "May I inquire as to why a . . . confirmed spinster wished to call on me this afternoon?"

  "I intended to ask you to offer your house on Trent Square for the use of war widows and their children."

  He didn't say anything for a moment. Then it looked as if a weight had been lifted from his (ever so broad) shoulders. "How very commendable. I have heard of the good works your sister Charlotte and her clergyman husband are doing--as well as the sewing school Lady Haverstock established to teach a trade to the lowest sort of woman. I should be delighted to offer my house on Trent Square for so noble a purpose. I'll instruct my man of business to see to it." He shrugged. "I hadn't even remembered that I owned Trent Square."

  The man was sinfully rich. "Then that's all I ask of you--not that it's insignificant. It's very generous of you."

  He drew her hand into his. "Now I have something to ask of you."

  She had never before been alone with a man, never had a man hold her hand so intimately. Her pulse skittered, and she thought if she were asked to speak, she would be incapable of summoning her voice.

  Surely he wasn't going to ask her to marry him! Hadn't she done her best to exonerate him from blame for the afternoon's fiasco? Hadn't she made it clear she had no intentions of marrying?

  Nevertheless as they stood there facing one another in the semi-darkness, the ticking of the chimneypiece clock and the hiss of coals the only sounds to be heard, she unaccountably began to tremble.

  His voice was low and husky when he spoke. "Will you do me the honor of becoming my duchess?"

  "You don't have to do this," she managed in a shaky voice.

  "It's time that I see to the succession, and there is no woman I'd rather have for the mother of my children."

  If he'd thought to woo her with such a declaration, nothing could have been further from reality. All his declaration accomplished was her total mortification. Being the mother of his children entailed the very thing that had so embarrassed her that very afternoon.

  Yet as she stood there contemplating it, she did not find him so very profligate. The man's intentions were honorable!

  "It's very kind of you, your grace, but I assure you, it's not necessary. Once my brother is apprised of the facts, he won't expect you to offer me marriage."

  "Your brother knows I had no intention of compromising you. He knows about. . . Belle Evans. And I assure you, both your brother and I could never have hoped for a happier alliance than for you to become my bride."

  Despite that he'd left England rather than duel a jealous husband, despite that he'd broken the faro bank at Whites with unconscionable wagering, despite that he'd been conducting a very public intrigue with the married Contessa Savatini these past four years, Elizabeth had to give the Duke of Aldridge credit for a nobility few aristocratic men possessed.

  Noble or not, she refused to marry this man. “I am deeply appreciative of your offer, your grace, but my resolve to stay unwed is unwavering.” Then, feigning a defiant manner, she said, “I bid you goodnight.”

  Once again, he barred her progress, this time firmly coiling his hand around her arm. "I am accustomed to getting what I want, Elizabeth."

  Chapter 3

  She raced up the stairs, her heartbeat hammering, her hands trembling. She could still feel the heat of where his hand had touched, still hear
him huskily addressing her by her Christian name. No man had ever called her just Elizabeth. It was unbearably intimate!

  In her bedchamber, she shakily closed the door behind her and commenced to pacing. Her hunger had been snuffed out like a candle. Had a feast been spread before her, she would have been unable to eat. That insufferable rake! What could possibly have possessed him to seek her for a wife--other than guilt about subjecting her to such an improper spectacle that afternoon?

  Did the officious man not realize that now--in the nineteenth century--men and women married for love? (Except for her greedy sister Kate.) The Duke of Aldridge did not love her, and she most certainly did not love him.

  She collapsed on to her bed. She'd spoken the truth when she told Anna she was incapable of loving any man except the one who did not return her affections. Captain Smythe. She wanted to hate the handsome officer for stealing her heart with his exclusive attentions that did not culminate in a marriage offer.

  He'd led her to believe he was in love with her before he returned to the Peninsula, but nary a letter had she received from him in the ensuing year. She had learned, too, that he was dallying with a Spanish noblewoman. The rake!

  As her thoughts wandered to her conversation with Anna earlier that day, she was stunned to realize that had occurred less than twelve hours previously. It seemed as if days had passed since her well-publicized fiasco at Aldridge House. It certainly seemed like days had passed since she'd last eaten.

  She did feel weak from hunger, but her insides were far too jittery to welcome nourishment.

  A knock sounded upon her door. She expected Haverstock. No doubt he was prepared to congratulate her for snaring a duke. She dreaded telling him the truth. He was bound to be deeply disappointed. Not only would it have been prestigious to have a duchess for a sister, but Haverstock would enjoy deepening the connection with his oldest friend. Were she to marry Aldridge, her brother's two best friends would also be his brothers-in-law.

  "Come in."

  It wasn't Haverstock who came strolling into her room. It was Anna. A smile brightened her lovely face as she strolled straight to Elizabeth. "I've come to offer my felicitations. Charles told me the duke's offered for you."

  "He did." Her pale eyes connected with Anna's large brown ones. "I turned him down."

  Anna dropped onto the bed. "Oh, dear."

  "I am not like Kate. I cannot marry where there is no love--and I most especially don't want to trap the duke into marriage where there's no love." She drew in a breath. "He's apparently possessed of more nobility than I'd given him credit for."

  "Having never met the man, I will own that I too thought he was a profligate, but it seems I was wrong." Anna sighed. "I hope you're not closing the door on this opportunity because of Captain Smythe. He doesn't deserve your regard."

  Elizabeth spoke as if she were thinking aloud. "When he left England without offering for me, I thought my heart would break. Every time the post arrived, I hoped for his letter which never came. Every time I saw an officer whose build or hair colour was similar to his, my pulse would explode with anticipation. But a year has passed now, and with it, so too the pain. I no longer look for a letter, no longer think of him every hour of the day." But no man except Captain Smythe was capable of eliciting such profound feelings in her.

  "Not all marriages begin with a passionate love like you once felt for Captain Smythe. Take mine and Charles.'"

  Elizabeth's eyes narrowed. "You cannot tell me you two weren't passionately in love when you married. I know better. I was here. I saw the hunger in your eyes whenever you looked at one another."

  Anna gave a soft smile. "Did you really believe we married for love?"

  "Of course!"

  "I swear on Mama's grave, neither of us was in love when we married."

  Elizabeth's mouth gaped open. "I cannot believe that!"

  Anna shrugged. "Ask Haverstock."

  "But he worships you!"

  "I think he may--as I adore him."

  "I've never seen two people so much in love."

  "I will own that a very short time after I plighted my life to his, I was deeply in love with him. Later, I learned he felt the same, but for a long time I didn't know he loved me. I thought. . . oh, I can't speak of such to a maiden!"

  "You thought he only desired to make love to you. Because he's a man. Come, Anna, I know something about men and their cravings!” And that afternoon she'd learned something altogether new about the opposite sex--though she'd as lief she hadn't. Elizabeth started to shake her head, a gleeful look upon her face. "We all knew why you and Haverstock spent so much time in your bedchamber those early months of your marriage!”

  A secretive smile spread slowly across Anna's face. “There are so many kinds of foundations upon which a good marriage can be built. I will own that physical … compatibility was crucial to ours. There’s also the very sense that in the eyes of God and man, you belong to your husband until death. And him to you. From the very start, even though he did not love me, Charles held respect for my position as his wife and saw to it that others respected me. That brought us closer.”

  Elizabeth was still stunned. She had never suspected that Anna's and Haverstock's marriage was not a great love match. “I was serious earlier today when I told you I would not marry.”

  “But earlier today your innocence had not been compromised. Now it has. You must know how the Aldridge servants talk! It will be all over London that you were seen running from his bedchamber.”

  “If I turn my back on Society as Charlotte has done—concentrating on doing good works—it won’t matter if I’m shunned by the ton.”

  “It will matter to your brothers.”

  “I’m sorry. I know how Haverstock would have liked for me to marry Aldridge.”

  “All of your loved ones would be happy for the connection, but more than that, it would be good for you. Don’t forget how very wealthy he is. With his money, you could do more good works than ever you dreamed.”

  She had not thought of that.

  Anna rose. “I beg that you sleep on it. Please, consider the duke’s proposal in light of the many good things that can result from it. Please?”

  Elizabeth nodded solemnly. How could Anna have known the duke had vowed to make her reconsider? She could still recall the very expression on his simmering countenance when he’d said, “I am accustomed to getting what I want, Elizabeth.”

  Why was the man under the misapprehension that she was what he wanted?

  * * *

  During the next several days, Aldridge set about getting all his affairs in order. He delivered the hundred pounds personally to Belle Evans. He knew the "loan" would never be returned. Even though her anticipated visit had resulted in the debacle with young Lady Elizabeth Upton, he was not angry. For the more he contemplated marriage, the more he thought marriage to Lady Elizabeth might suit him.

  He did not delude himself that he was in love with her. But the attributes she possessed were exactly what was required for his potential duchess. And it was time. He must see to the succession.

  Once Aldridge had seen Belle, his next order of business was to have his solicitor see about the house on Trent Square. What a capital idea to allow officers' widows to use it!

  It was really quite admirable of Lady Elizabeth to concern herself so much with the plight of the less fortunate. Though it did not surprise him. Haverstock had always been possessed of an acute sense of duty. Few men of his rank worked as hard or for as many hours as he did for the Crown.

  Taking a cue from Haverstock, Aldridge's next action was showing up at the Foreign Office and offering his services. He learned that Haverstock had greased his path, and his duties in cryptology had already been assigned.

  At Brooks later that night, he announced to all his titled friends that he fully intended to sit in the House of Lords when the next session began.

  After meeting with his chief steward, Aldridge was temporarily free of obligati
ons. Save one. Or make that two. He showed up at Haverstock House on Half Moon Street early enough in the day that Lady Elizabeth would still be at home. "Pray," he said to the butler, "the Duke of Aldridge to see Lady Elizabeth." He handed a note to the stiff man. "I beg that you give this to her. It explains why I've come."

  * * *

  When the duke's note was delivered to Elizabeth, she was sitting at her dressing table peering into the looking glass as Anna's skillful French maid saw to the arrangement of her hair. Elizabeth's eyes ran over the seal that was stamped with the symbol of a sword, then she opened it.

  My Dear Lady Elizabeth,

  I thought you and I could ride over to Trent Square so I can show you the house, and we can discuss what must be done to prepare it for your war widows. I will wait in your drawing room.

  Aldridge

  He hadn't forgotten! Though she did not fancy traveling with the notorious rake, she was decidedly thrilled to set into motion her scheme.

  Filled with a sense of exhilaration, she could not wait. "That's perfectly good enough, Colette. I'm anxious to dress and meet my caller who awaits downstairs."

  Elizabeth was quite sure Colette had peered at the signature on her letter, and the old woman's comment soon confirmed her suspicions. "What shall you wear to see the duke?"

  It was Elizabeth's great misfortune that all the servants knew of her indiscretions in the duke's bedchamber three days previously. She knew the periwinkle was her most flattering dress, but that's what she had worn the last time she'd seen him, the night he proposed--the night he'd murmured her first name so intimately. "The pale yellow, I think," Elizabeth managed in a shaky voice.

  "An excellent choice. So pretty with Mademoiselle's pale yellow hair."

  * * *

  Aldridge regarded her with his dark, pensive eyes as she moved gracefully into the drawing room. She looked a bit younger than her one and twenty years—and she looked prettier than she had that day in his bedchamber as her widened eyes perused his nakedness. How in the blazes had the girl not been snatched up before now? She was in possession of gentle beauty, as soft as the buttery colour of her hair. Pale periwinkle eyes, a perfectly formed nose, and sweet pink lips combined to produce a most agreeable face. Were all the young men in London fools?