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The Duke's Reform - £1.01
Kindle |
I'm delighted to tell you that my first self-published book, on Kindle,
The Duke's Reform, is now available for download.
It is a full length book -not a novella.
This is a new story - has not appeared anywhere else - and is my first Regency with a higher 'heat' level.
Here is an extract - hope you enjoy it.
Prologue
1805
'Your grace, shall I remove the tray?'
Alex glanced over his shoulder at
the butler hovering anxiously behind him. 'Take it, I've no appetite.' He
turned back to staring morosely over the park. Once this view had pleased him,
now it meant nothing. Without Eleanor and the girls Newcomb was an empty shell,
no longer a home.
He rubbed
his hand over his jaw. He must look like a brigand. His clothes were in little
better state than his person. Grief at the death of his wife and daughters had
all but overwhelmed him. He was rudderless— like a ship in a storm buffeted
this way and that, unable to find a direction to guide him to safety.
What day
was it? How long had it been since his life had been torn apart? Weeks perhaps?
Visitors no longer called to leave their cards of sympathy. No doubt someone
had dealt with them, written suitable replies. He had not married Eleanor for
love, but had come to love her as the years passed. With her at his side he had
been happy, able to forget his miserable upbringing and make this mausoleum
into a happy place.
All that was over. He would not make the same
mistake—far better to remain aloof. He vowed never to love again and to remain
safe, with his emotions hidden. To experience such pain a second time would
surely kill him. Sometime in the future he would have to marry; he must provide
an heir, but would make sure he selected a suitable girl and not one who would
expect him to love her. All he could offer his next bride was affection,
respect and his title.
He would abandon this place, his
ancestral seat, and remove to London and crowd his days with pointless
activities until he was himself again. Decision made, he strode from the study
and
shouted for his valet. The sooner he was gone the better.
Newcomb held nothing but sadness for him. His loyal staff must come with him to
Grosvenor Square—with familiar faces around at least he could be sure his
household would run smoothly without his interference.
He yawned and rubbed his unshaved
jaw. If he was not the last in line he would get up a
regiment of his own and join Wellington in Spain. Fighting
for King and country might help to fill the hole the loss of his beloved wife
and children had made in his life.
Chapter One
Grosvenor Square
1810
Alex glared at his lawyer. How dare he have the temerity to
interfere with his life? 'Dewberry, you forget yourself. When I take a wife is
entirely my concern, kindly don't forget that.'
'Forgive
me, your grace, but I owe it to your father to speak plainly. Your dissolute
lifestyle these past five years is a matter of grave concern. If you are
determined to destroy your health in this way then could I ask you to find
yourself a suitable wife and set up your nursery before matters overtake you?'
'I
have no wish to marry again, I have nothing to offer apart from my title and
wealth. I cannot expect a young woman to accept me as I am.' Dewberry's look of
astonishment almost made him laugh. 'The sort of woman who would be satisfied
with just that is not someone I would
wish to bear my children.'
'There
are dozens of eligible young ladies in the marriage mart this year who would
think themselves fortunate to be selected by yourself. You are a handsome man,
if you will forgive me for saying so, your grace, and in your prime.'
'On the
outside perhaps, but I no longer have it in me to be a caring partner. It would
be a marriage of convenience; my wife would have to understand it will be a
business arrangement. She to provide me with children and I, in return, to keep
her in luxury for the rest of her life.'
He yawned, it had been a late
night and he had not yet been to bed. The black crow was staring at him
expectantly, he'd get no peace until he agreed.
'I
shall do as you suggest.'
The
elderly lawyer beamed. 'I should be happy to arrange for you to meet suitable
young
ladies, there are several
debutantes who would be ideal.'
God's teeth!
'I shall do my own selecting, Dewberry.' He raised one eyebrow. 'I do not
expect my search to become common
gossip.'
The
man coloured. 'Of course not, your grace. Anything that is said in my chambers
remains confidential. However, your appearance at Almacks …'
'Almacks? I'd
rather have my teeth pulled them go there. I shall attend a few functions and
see for myself what is on offer.'
He
strode from the office determined to get away from Town. Whatever Dewberry said
matchmaking mamas would soon be on the lookout. He didn't want to go to
Newcomb, he would go to Norfolk
and do some shooting. Keep his head down until he was obliged to appear in
public when the Season started in March. He'd find a few cronies to accompany
him, there were always fellows willing to follow his lead as long as he picked
up the bill.
****
Norfolk
Lady Isobel Drummond stormed out of the library. To be
ignored by her parents unless they
required her assistance with her many younger siblings was
one thing, to be told it was her duty to marry a wealthy man in order to save
the family from ruin, was quite another.
Gathering
her dogs from the kitchens she snatched up her cloak and pushed her feet into
the wooden clogs she used for gardening. She had to get out, get away from the
house, give herself time to recover her composure. She paused, she would dearly
love to run upstairs and change into her habit. A wild gallop across the Fens
was exactly what she needed, but that would mean risking meeting her weeping
mother and furious father. No, far better to walk.
Othello and
Ebony barked and raced around her in circles, as eager as she to be away from
Drummond Hall. It was a blustery November day, a hint of snow on the wind
whipped from the sea. Thank God she did not have to make a decision about going
to London to
join her aunt and uncle for the season until after Christmas.
Deep in
contemplation she failed to hear the rattle of a carriage approaching at speed.
Ebony barked sharply and she looked round. Instinct made her throw herself
prone, her bladder almost
emptied as a team of horses, followed by the wheels of the
carriage, thundered above her. For a
moment she was unable to move, shock rendering her almost
insensible. Then righteous
indignation flooded through her and she pushed herself onto
her knees. She came face-to-face with a veritable giant, and not a particularly
friendly one at that.
'God's
teeth, woman, what the hell do you think you're doing wandering down the middle
of highway? I could have killed you.'
Spitting
mud in his direction she glared back into his furious face. 'Are you insane,
sir? This is not a toll road but a country lane. What would you have done if
there had been a flock of sheep across your path?'
In answer
he reached out and hauled her to her feet, then dropping to his knees, with
firm hands brushed off the worst of the debris from her person. At every touch
she flinched, unused to any gentleman taking such liberties. For some reason
her anger dissipated to be replaced by a strange internal heat that followed
the path of his fingers. She found herself gazing down at his dark hair which
curled intriguingly over the collar of his many caped coat.
Enough was
enough. 'Desist at once, sir, I have no wish to be manhandled by you. I am
quite capable of removing the dirt for myself. You had best look to your team,
your carriage is in imminent danger of tipping into the ditch.'
His head shot up; his eyes were a
peculiar shade halfway between blue and black, his nose
patrician and his lips mobile. Warmth spread across her
breasts and into her face. She could not
tear her glance away; she was pinned like a butterfly on a
board by the glitter in his eyes. Then it was gone and he was towering above
her.
'Dammit!
Out of the way, madam, haven't you done enough damage already this morning?'
The
spirited team stamped and tossed their heads in impatience and the rear wheel
of the vehicle began to slide inexorably backwards. Without thinking, she raced
to the lead horse and
snatched the bit. The gentleman shouted from behind the
carriage.
'Good girl,
move them forwards as rapidly as you can.'
Ignoring his instructions, she
was well able to handle his horses without his highhanded
intervention, she urged the chestnut sideways, following her
instincts. Going this way would move the wheel away from danger far more
efficiently. The team threw their weight into the traces and the carriage shot
forward removing the wheel from danger. Unfortunately the irascible gentleman
fell headlong into the ditch instead.
The air was
blue, she thought it wise to absent herself as hastily as possible. Quickly
checking the brake was on and the reins securely tied around the pole, she
prepared to creep away. Although it wasn't her fault he'd fallen, no doubt he
would blame her for his foolhardiness as he had done before.
She
prepared to make a run for it. Too late! A dripping figure emerged from behind
the horses and strode towards her. She couldn't help herself; her scream echoed
down the lane. Suddenly two black shapes hurtled past and for the second time
the unfortunate gentleman was tipped backwards into the noxious water.
Not waiting
to see him emerge and seek revenge on the person who was responsible for
dumping him twice into the ditch, she raced full pelt down the lane. She
scrambled over a five
barred gate and tore across the meadow scattering cows in
all directions in her head long flight. Her dogs were beside her, tongues
lolling out, obviously delighted with the game.
****
Alexander shook his head, sending foul water in all
directions. He scraped the muck from his eyes and watched his quarry vanish
down the lane. Who the devil was she? Dressed like a servant but quite
obviously gently born. She was a conundrum. He stepped out of the ditch and
propped himself against the carriage wheel in order to remove his boots and tip
out the water. It was fortunate they no
longer fitted him as snugly as they'd used to.
He tossed
his sodden cape on to the box and stared gloomily at his ruined topcoat. The
blue
superfine jacket had cost him a pretty penny and it, like
the rest of his garments, was quite beyond salvage. The young woman was right
to castigate him, he had been driving
far too fast. He shrugged, he seldom drove any other way, caring little if he came to grief. However, he had no
wish to take anyone else with him if he went, and certainly not the lovely
young termagant he'd just encountered.
He checked
his horses were none the worse their experience and then leaped into his
carriage and recovered the reins. His breeches were so wet he slid from side to
side as the curricle gathered speed. He had no option, unless he wished to
nosedive over the edge he must return to his hunting box at a walk.
best wishes
Fenella
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