The Duke and I (Saints and Sinners Book 1) Read online

  The Duke and I

  Heather Boyd

  www.Heather-Boyd.com

  Contents

  Blurb

  Copyright

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Epilogue

  More Regency Romance From Heather Boyd…

  About Heather Boyd

  Widowed Nicolas Westfall, the Duke of Stapleton, cannot prevent the upcoming debut of his youngest daughter no matter how much he wishes her eventual marriage wouldn’t leave him all alone. Convinced to host a Christmas Ball to prepare her for the season, he’s aware he’s considered a catch on the marriage mart too, but Nicolas is drawn to companion Gillian Thorpe instead.

  Gillian was hired to prepare the duke’s daughter for her first season, but it's not easy when the girl hasn’t the least interest in the men and the widowed father makes her knees weak when he laughs with her. Gillian respects and admires (perhaps too frequently) the Duke of Stapleton so when she’s lured into a mistletoe kiss with him, will she be able to stop at one or even want to?

  Note: This story was previously published in the Hot Winter Nights Racy Regency Christmas Collection.

  Copyright © 2017 by Heather Boyd

  ISBN: 978-1-925239-30-0

  Published, July 2018

  Editing by Kelli Collins

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced nor used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used facetiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The best way to stay in touch is to join Heather’s New Release List. Visit heather-boyd.com to subscribe.

  Dedication

  This story is dedicated to my husband John—bringer of wisdom, enthusiast of my wild imaginings, advocate of dreaming big. We do everything well together, too.

  Prologue

  London,

  March, 1818

  Nicolas Westfall paced the front hall of his middle daughter’s Mayfair home, attempting to rein in his temper. Fanny had done it again. Offending an important member of society was no laughing matter. Memories of such impudence lasted years and Nicolas had another daughter to think about too.

  Fanny rushed down the stairs of her residence to greet him, smiling widely as she came but he’d bet she was dreading the coming inevitable confrontation over her behavior. She had to know why he’d come. “Father, what an unexpected surprise.”

  Nicolas regarded Fanny with exasperation. Of all his daughters, he had a soft spot for her, even if she was the most troublesome of the bunch. She reminded him of his late wife in so many ways. Impulsive, exuberant, and unmindful of many of the rules of society.

  Thankfully, Fanny still squirmed under his scrutiny the way she had since a little girl, and that gave him hope that she might listen to his counsel. After all, she was too old to take over his knee to deliver her the scolding she deserved. “Fanny.”

  “I thought you were still at home in the country,” she exclaimed pausing several feet away.

  “I had unexpected business in Town.” He held open his arms. “Come here, Fanny girl. Give your old father a squeeze before I must scold you.”

  He always tried to prepare his children for when he needed to shout at them. They had no mother. Just Nicolas. He loved them but did not always approve of their choices.

  Fanny hurried across the room, hugged him tightly for as long as possible and then slowly drew away from him. She winced. “It is not as terrible a scandal as everyone is saying. Gossip is almost always a vast embellishment of the truth.”

  He snorted. “You called the Duchess of Lowell an ill-bred old goat…”

  “Without a shred of human kindness or decency,” Fanny finished for him. “Yes, I admit I said that.”

  There were other slanderous remarks she’d made too, but she would only admit to the rest if Nicolas mentioned them first. He knew his daughter well. He pinched the bridge of his nose. Finding a replacement governess for his youngest daughter will have to wait until another day. “Regardless of whether it is true or not you should not have said any of that in a public place,” he complained.

  “But father it was terrible,” she protested. “I couldn’t sit idly by while a kind and gentle woman was so ill-used by that woman.”

  “I’m sure to you it was a grave indignity, but it was none of your concern. Why must you meddle in the affairs of those who can harm your reputation?”

  “Well, it had to be someone’s concern,” Fanny protested. “The way some servants are treated makes my blood boil. I have no regrets. Not one.”

  She never did. Nicolas hooked her arm through his firmly and led Fanny along to her upstairs parlor. “I’m sure you see it that way, but others most certainly do not. I had dinner at my club last night and the silence on my arrival was extremely awkward, to say the least. Lowell was there and stormed out. You know I like him. Now tell me everything about the encounter from the beginning,” he demanded. “I’ll do my best to repair the damage you’ve done if I can.”

  Fanny explained what she’d found: a governess harried and abused at a coaching inn where she’d stopped for luncheon the previous week. It wasn’t an unfamiliar story. Those with power often used it ill.

  “Do you know the worst of it? Despite her efforts to please them, despite the beating she received with a parasol no less, Lady Lowell dismissed her there and then. They didn’t care if they stranded her in that god-forsaken place. She would have had no position, no reference, and no hope of improving her situation or recovering her possessions from the country.”

  Fanny was the impulsive one, but she had a great heart for those with less than herself. Which amounted to nearly everyone she met, unfortunately. His daughter had been left a vast fortune by her late husband but thankfully had the brains to manage it competently herself. He suspected her habit of rescuing outcasts was borne out of a want of love in her life. Not for the first time did he wish her marriage had burdened her with children of her own.

  “So you brought another stray home with you? I really hoped you would grow out of that habit.” He sighed. “What were you doing at the inn in the first place?”

  “I was returning from a picnic with friends.” She looked up at him, her large eyes full of hope. “She is really very lovely. Kind. Not at all forward. Very quiet indeed.”

  “Quiet,” the duke murmured reverently. “That must be refreshing.”

  “Oh, dear,” Fanny consoled as she rubbed his arm. “Has Rebecca visited home recently?”

  Nicolas had a handful of adult children, some of which had presented him with grandchildren too. Most of them were unruly, and the noise when they gathered together frequently sent him running for his library for peace and quiet. At the moment, he had left behind his second eldest daughter, Mrs. Rebe
cca Warner, at the family estate with his youngest daughter Jessica. Just thinking of going back to listen to them squabble made him long to stay in London far beyond his needs.

  “She arrived last week and intends to stay another after my return,” he said with a heavy sigh. “With a few of her closest friends in tow too,” the duke complained.

  “Oh, poor Jessica,” Fanny said, wincing at her youngest sister’s company for good reason. Rebecca’s friends would put ideas in her head. Ideas and dreams he did not care to think about. “You should have brought Jessica with you to London.”

  His youngest daughter Jessica was not out yet but had acted as mistress of the ducal country seat for a number of years. She was extremely capable, much to Rebecca’s chagrin.

  “Jessica wouldn’t hear of coming with me and I much rather she stay at home until she comes out anyway. She’s always happier in the country.”

  “You mean you’re happier with Jessica in the country,” Fanny chided sternly. “She’s almost of an age to come out, Father. Next year she will have her season. You cannot keep Jessica a little girl for much longer.”

  “I can try,” he promised, trying not to say it through gritted teeth.

  Fanny gave him a look that suggested she saw through him. “The society around Stapleton is not diverse enough, and you know it,” she chided. “She has to experience something of the world if she is to make the right choices for her future. She needs to meet young men too.”

  Nicolas believed himself a good father which meant no one was ever good enough to marry his daughters. He hadn’t particularly liked Fanny’s late husband, but he’d tolerated the match because Fanny had been smitten with the man.

  He looked around the pretty room, ready to return to the topic of conversation that had brought him here in the first place. “So where is the governess you took in now? I trust you found her a better position than she had.”

  Fanny gave a guilty shrug. “We were upstairs before your knock at the door. Her name is Mrs. Gillian Thorpe, she’s been widowed many an unhappy year.”

  The woman was still here? Damn, but he had hoped this was not another overstepping servant Nicolas might have to give their marching orders to. He was in quite the mood already and he’d use his title to protect his daughter today. “Well? Trot her out. Lets take a look at this supposed paragon of female virtue.”

  Fanny punched her hands to her hips. “She has not pulled the wool over my eyes, Papa.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that,” he insisted with a grim expression. “I won’t tolerate any nonsense or delays this time round.”

  “Father! Quiet she might hear you,” Fanny complained.

  The last woman Fanny had taken in had stayed half a year before Nicolas had learned about her, accepting all manner of gifts from Fanny as if it were her right. Nicolas had found her a position four counties away with a family that rarely came to London but once a year.

  “I hardly care for the sensibilities of a woman who would allow herself to be spoiled undeservedly. I knew the last one was trouble the first moment I met her,” he said. “I will not allow you to be used again by anyone.”

  “All right, but remember to curb your tongue and be polite,” Fanny pleaded. “She makes me laugh like no one else can. I like her very much.”

  “You like everyone at first sight,” he grumbled, and they moved to the hall together. “It’s only later that you notice their true colors and grasping ways.”

  Fanny rushed to get ahead of him. “She’s this way.”

  A few steps along the hall Nicolas paused and head cocked to the side. A woman was complaining, quite loudly, to someone else.

  “No! Absolutely not! Take them back,” the woman cried.

  There was a mumbled response he could not quite catch but suspected it was Fanny’s maid speaking back to whoever it was.

  “No! I don’t care what Lady Rivers told you to do,” the stranger continued. “Oh, give them here, and I will hang them back in her wardrobe myself.”

  “I thought you said she was quiet?” Nicolas hurried toward the voices immediately.

  As he reached the hall near Fanny’s bedchamber, he saw the stranger marching through the house. He stopped, bracing one arm against the wall as the scene between the woman and Fanny’s ladies maid played out before him.

  “She will not dismiss you over this you silly girl,” the woman insisted, unaware of her audience, before marching into Fanny’s bedchamber carrying a mountain of clothing. “I certainly don’t need six more gowns,” she insisted in a loud, clear voice. “I have enough as it is.”

  “But she said she never wears them. She said you would need them,” Fanny’s maid promised, chasing after.

  Nicolas eased closer to hear the rest of the exchange.

  “I don’t care what she said I would want or not want,” the woman argued. “A governess has no need for silks or velvet riding gowns. I’d rather go out without a stitch of clothing than accept so much charity from anyone.”

  Nicolas choked on a laugh.

  The woman suddenly reappeared from Fanny’s bedchamber doorway and spotted him in the hall. Her eyes widened. “Oh!”

  “Hello,” Nicolas began, moving toward the argumentative woman. “What happens here?”

  The woman scowled. “I am trying to return the gowns Lady Rivers keeps foisting upon me.”

  “Foisting?” Nicolas stalked closer to the woman until he towered over her. He was comfortable intimidating people with his greater height. One look up at him and those in the wrong tended to stammer.

  “Yes, foist.” A merry smile appeared on her face though as she stared up at him without fear or apparent concern. “I do like that word, don’t you? It makes me think of the season and all those unwise choices debutants will make.”

  “It is one of my favorite words.” His hand shot out before he could stop himself. “You must be Mrs. Thorpe.”

  “I guess I must be. How do you do?” They shook hands, and much to his shock he lingered over her until she pulled her hand back. He was never usually so friendly to governesses, especially pretty unemployed ones.

  Mrs. Thorpe, however, saw nothing forward in his behavior and beamed a brilliant smile his way. “And you are?”

  “Nicolas Westfall.”

  Her eyes narrowed upon him and then she peeked at Fanny. “Is this another friend of yours that I simply must meet?”

  Nicolas laughed outright. It was a novelty to be seen as something other than Father or the Duke of Stapleton. Anonymity was rare around members of his family. “Something like that.”

  Fanny rushed forward, and her next words spoiled the moment for him. “Gillian Thorpe may I present my father, the Duke of Stapleton.”

  “Oh. Oh, I see.” The woman stared at him and then drew back a step, no doubt aware of her position in the world and of his greater one too. He was amused that she did not immediately curtsy to him. Instead, she punched her hands to her hips and kept her gaze on him. “Can you be counted on to stop Lady Rivers giving me things I do not need?”

  Nicolas laughed, pleased that the mention of his title hadn’t turned the woman into a simpering flirt as often happened. “I have tried to curb her generosity to no avail all her life. If she is not giving things away, she is bringing strays home with her. She is determined to look after everyone. She’s been that way since childhood, only then she brought home wounded birds and lost dogs. Lately, it has been strangers eating at her table. Most people simply give in and accept rather than fight with her.”

  “I am not most people, your grace.” Mrs. Thorpe colored suddenly and then dipped an elegant curtsy to him finally, and then faced Fanny with a determined expression. “You have to promise to stop this nonsense, or I will leave tonight.”

  Nicolas grinned at the steel in her voice. This was not a woman who planned to make use of Fanny’s money. He couldn’t help but like her for standing her ground.

  Fanny suddenly held up her hands in surrender. “You are th
e most stubborn of women.”

  Gillian Thorpe smiled widely. “That’s a promise I expect you to keep, my lady. Excuse me.”

  She spun about and returned to a bedchamber but reappeared a moment later with a hatbox in hand. She thrust that at Fanny’s nervous maid. “I do not wish to see this hatbox ever again,” she told the girl firmly. “Or the contents.”

  Nicolas shook his head. What a governess she must have made. No wonder Lady Lowell wanted to be rid of her. In a household run by women, there could only be one woman in charge. He could easily imagine this woman defending her charges from suitors and false friends, and their own mothers, too, if necessary. Jessica, motherless for most of her life, needed such a woman in her life. “I see now that gossip is woefully misinformed about the nature of your relationship.”

  “Of course it is wrong,” Fanny said at the same time as Mrs. Thorpe. “We are the best of friends,” Fanny continued.

  Mrs. Thorpe colored a little at Fanny’s remark and shook her head. “Your daughter is the kindest person I’ve ever met, your grace. I am very grateful for her intervention and offer of shelter until I can find a new position as a governess, but I do wish she could be less generous with strays.”

  Nicolas wholeheartedly agreed. Mrs. Thorpe was a confidant woman, and he admired that quality very much. She had a delightfully direct way of speaking too. “I’ve wished for that too.”

  Fanny touched his arm suddenly, pulling his attention from the governess. “Will you stay for luncheon?”

  He hadn’t planned to stay, but as he snuck another glance at Mrs. Thorpe, he decided he should. His youngest daughter was in need of a new governess. This one seemed almost ideal. Mrs. Thorpe might just be stubborn enough to withstand his family if she was known to have his complete support in all things related to Jessica. “I believe I’d enjoy that very much if Mrs. Thorpe would consent to join us too.”