A Duke to Elude: Sweet Regency Romance (Sherton Sisters Book 1) Read online

  A Duke To Elude

  Wendy May Andrews

  Sparrow Ink

  Copyright © 2020 Wendy May Andrews

  All rights reserved

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced, transmitted, or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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

  ISBN: 978-1-989634-21-9

  Cover design by: German Creative

  Printed in the United States of America

  www.wendymayandrews.com

  Dedication

  In this book, Rosabel has to discover that isolating herself is not the solution she hopes it would be. I have been blessed with a team of friends and family members who help me with my books and support my writing adventures. I recently lost a member of my team and the loss is great. But I know that isolation does not insulate me from the pain. I hope you will enjoy Rosabel’s journey to that discovery. This book is dedicated to everyone trying to stay on their teams.

  She’s waiting for true love.

  He’s tasked with uncovering the truth.

  When nefarious schemes threaten her reputation, he finds his heart on the line with it.

  Lady Rosabel, eldest daughter of the Earl of Sherton, has no interest in being a Duchess, despite countless proposals from eligible nobility. Secretly, she is waiting for a love match—preferably with someone who carries no title. Bel’s third Season is predictably disappointing until the mysterious Duke of Wexford arrives and has her questioning her plans to refuse any suitor with his status.

  James Allingham, the 6th Duke of Wexford, seems to have inherited the role as advisor to the ailing King along with the dukedom. Investigating Lord Prescott’s schemes is tricky enough without the interference of Lady Rosabel. She is beautiful and intelligent, but Wexford has no time for courting.

  Wexford needs to uncover everything about Prescott’s plans to destabilize the colonies. When Lady Rosabel is implicated in the schemes, James fights his suspicions of—and his attraction to—the beautiful young woman as he presses on to find the truth.

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Epigraph

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Epilogue

  Other Books by Wendy May Andrews

  About the Author

  Acknowledgements

  Thank you Alfred, Monique, Suzanne, and Christina. Your critiques of my drafts are so helpful in my story development. And your support is priceless.

  My editor, Julie Sherwood, is a dream, and excellently skilled. Any errors that remain behind are the author’s fault.

  Thanks to GermanCreative for my beautiful cover. Extra special thanks to Ellie and Suzanne (the photographer and model). I am thrilled and honoured by your work.

  Special acknowledgement to my husband – you are the best everything and anything this romantic author could wish for.

  Chapter One

  London, Autumn 1805

  Rosabel tried to keep the jealousy from showing on her face. It would be decidedly uncouth to display any negativity at her friend’s wedding. Or rather her sister’s friend’s wedding, but what was the point of splitting hairs at the moment? It was just so obvious that the bride and groom were deeply in love with one another.

  It was enough to curdle one’s stomach.

  Especially if one wanted that for oneself.

  This was Rosabel’s third Season, if one were counting. And, of course, everyone was. The only thing that was saving her was the fact that she, as an earl’s daughter and one who was considered beautiful at that, was in no rush to marry. She could pretend that it was her choice to remain unwed. And in a certain way it was. It wasn’t as though she hadn’t received offers. She just hadn’t accepted them. Thankfully, it was well known that she had received several offers so, she needn’t hide her face in shame. Not like her poor sister, Hilaria. Not that she had much sympathy for her. If Hilaria weren’t such a bear there might be more interest from the gentlemen.

  Not only was Hil unfriendly and grouchy, she had let it be known she had no interest in anyone ranked lower than a duke! Foolish girl! She clearly hadn’t thought that through very well. She might not be the brightest spark in the hearth, but it isn’t hard to count how many princes and dukes there are in the realm. You don’t even need your toes to do the math. She should have at least included the marquises.

  Rosabel once again made a conscious effort to control what might be conveyed in her expression. She nodded and exchanged pleasant smiles with a young lady across the room from her, who was watching her attentively. Probably looking for a reaction, spiteful little cat, Bel thought with an inward grimace while maintaining an even smile. She was determined that all present would think her nothing but delighted for the new Countess.

  And she truly was, on one hand. Bel had no interest in Lord Crossly for himself, nor his title. But the obvious adoration on his face as Georgia had walked down the aisle toward him had nearly overset her. Why couldn’t an eligible gentleman look at her like that? Like how her own father still looked at her mother, despite her mother’s occasional less than appealing traits. That was what she wanted – a life partner to enjoy standing by her side for the rest of their lives.

  It might not be fashionable. It might not be common. But Rosabel would marry for no other reason. And she would guard that secret until her death if she must. She wouldn’t allow anyone to mock her feelings. But she also wouldn’t accept a proposal that was not accompanied by deep feelings.

  As she was composing her thoughts and turning a face of serenity to the crowds circulating through her mother’s rooms, Rosabel’s gaze encountered that of the Duke of Wexford. She tried to turn her attention away but for the first time since she had made his acquaintance, the duke seemed actually to be fully paying attention to her.

  Tearing her gaze from his, Bel turned bodily away from him, even as she had the impression that he might be coming toward her. She refused to watch to see whether or not he did so.

  “Lady Rosabel.”

  It took effort, but Bel managed that not even so much as a hair reacted to the deep voice coming from just behind her right shoulder. However, inside she could feel quivers of excitement shivering to be released.

  “Your Grace,” she acknowledged with the requisite curtsy. Bel ensured that she didn’t quite meet his eyes, keeping her gaze closer to his chin. For that reason, she couldn’t avoid seeing the briefest twitch of his lips. She almost blinked. Even more than she, the duke had a reputation for controlling his reactions with a will of iron.

  “Your mother has outdone herself. I will admit, it was a surprise that she was to be hosting the wedding breakfast today.”

  Bel kept her expression neutral. “Why would it be a surprise? Ge
orgia has no one to do it for her, and she did make her debut in our home. We would be the logical choice, wouldn’t you think?”

  “There’s no secret that Crossley doesn’t spare much thought for your mother,” the duke observed in his cool voice that made Bel wish to ruffle his composure.

  She kept her own tone cool as she nodded in acknowledgement. “Perhaps, but since he doesn’t have any close family to speak of, he didn’t object to my mother’s offer. I suppose it saved him from doing it himself.”

  This time she sensed rather than saw his twitch of reaction.

  “So, you think he couldn’t be bothered to host his own fete to celebrate his great love?”

  It took even more effort to control her reaction this time, but Bel was reasonably certain she had pulled it off. She was feeling rather less shivery over his deep voice, though, now that she was growing irritated with his reminder of the earl’s deep affection for his new wife. She forced herself to offer a negligent shrug, as though she couldn’t be bothered to care either way.

  The duke laughed, and Rosabel wanted to stamp her foot and walk away from him. But, she controlled the urge and allowed a smile to touch her lips.

  “You are an interesting female, Lady Rosabel. I’m surprised you haven’t fulfilled your ambition of landing a coronet.”

  “Really, Your Grace? Are you offering yours?” Bel was ridiculously proud of herself for the boredom she could hear in her voice when she asked the question. And smirked a little as the duke laughed once more.

  “Not at this time,” he answered without rancor, offering her a bow as he took his leave of her.

  Bel didn’t watch him leave but was well aware of his progress through the rooms. She kept her gaze on the bride and thought over the duke’s words. With a sigh, she acknowledged that he was probably right. Crossley could easily have hosted his own wedding breakfast. He most certainly would have preferred it. But then it would have been Georgia hosting. And while she had come a long way very quickly, she wouldn’t have enjoyed her introduction to the role of countess to also coincide with being hostess to such a large gathering, and her wedding day no less.

  Glancing at her mother, Bel had to acknowledge that the woman was in her element. Their poor mother hadn’t yet managed to marry off any of her own flock of daughters. Feeling that she had a role in Georgia’s match would make her feel that she had accomplished something. It also would allow her to save face. By demonstrating the family’s support of Georgia’s marriage to Lord Crossley, it would hide any embarrassment over the fact that he had chosen the unknown provincial girl over one of the Sherton sisters. Bel had to acknowledge that her mother was no fool, even if she was decidedly foolish at times.

  As Rosabel continued to watch the circulating guests, she finally acknowledged that it was a kindness on Crossley’s part to allow Lady Sherton to host the event. As Wexford had said, there was no love lost between the earl and Bel’s mother. Bel wasn’t sure what the history was, but she suspected it had something to do with the earl’s first wife. She had been some sort of distant cousin to Lady Sherton. And Crossley held the countess to blame for something or other. From what she had gleaned from the few things Georgia had said, it hadn’t been a successful marriage. Perhaps the countess’ matchmaking inclination had been involved and Crossley held her accountable for his unhappy union. In the past, Bel had never paid much attention to the older branches of the family tree nor to the affairs of the members of such. With a huff of dissatisfaction that she quickly suppressed she realized that she ought to try to do so. She wasn’t a schoolroom miss any longer. She probably ought to learn to think of someone other than herself.

  That bracing thought propelled her forward as she caught sight of the bride alone for the first time.

  “Georgia, you are holding up marvellously.”

  The bride grinned at her. “I feel wrung out like a dishrag, so you’re either being suspiciously kind or decidedly untruthful. But I appreciate the gesture, nonetheless.”

  Rosabel had to laugh, although she kept it light and short. She swiftly but thoroughly examined the younger woman. Crossley had spared no expense. Georgia was finally wearing a gown that was expressly designed just for her. The fit and colour suited her perfectly. And it still looked as though it were fresh from the laundress.

  “I’m actually being neither, surprisingly. It’s probably the glow of delight that’s draped over you, but you really do look as though you’ve just left your maid’s clutches. There doesn’t seem to be a hair out of place, your gown has withstood the day, and your cheeks are rosy.”

  Georgia blinked over her words, her grin widening. “Thank you.” She looked around at the gathered crowds and her smile faded slightly. “Your mother has been doing her best to teach me everything I never wanted to know about being a countess, but I’m fairly certain I’ll be returning for further lessons after we return.”

  “You know you’ll always be welcome.”

  Georgia’s gaze turned shrewd. “That’s very gracious of you to say, Lady Rosabel, thank you.”

  “I swear to you, I was never after Crossley.”

  “I didn’t actually think you were. I was referring to you being willing to share your mother. With so many of you girls, it’s kind of you to not resent the time she has been spending with me lately.”

  “Don’t give that the slightest mind, Georgia. I promise you, having her distracted away from my unwedded state has been blissful. You’ve done us a favor, in fact. I wish you weren’t leaving Town, to be perfectly honest. I’m dreading the countess’ attention returning to her disappointment in me.”

  Georgia grinned and reached over to squeeze Rosabel’s hand. Having had so many sisters tagging along after her all her life, Bel hadn’t put much effort into friendships with other girls, even when she made her debut. She was beginning to think this might have been a mistake. There was a strange sensation emanating from what she suspected was her heart. It was quite nice. She returned Georgia’s small gesture.

  “We shall call upon you as soon as you announce you are welcoming visitors,” she assured the younger woman.

  “Oh, I do hope you won’t be standing upon ceremony. I would love it if you drop in immediately upon our return.”

  Rosabel laughed lightly. “Crossley might feel differently on the subject.”

  Georgia shrugged, looking over her shoulder toward where her husband was watching her closely. Turning back toward Bel, Georgia’s grin was wide and impish.

  “The earl has repeatedly assured me that his home is now my home and I am to be its mistress. Therefore, I am reasonably certain that means I may entertain whenever I see fit. And I see fit to entertain any of the Sherton sisters whenever they might feel like visiting me.” She paused again before adding, “You can be sure Vicky will be by before I even descend from the carriage.”

  Rosabel smiled, acknowledging the truthfulness of the other woman’s words. “Very well. I will wish you bon voyage. Do enjoy yourself, Georgia. We all wish you every happiness.” To her annoyance, she felt emotion welling in her throat. She was actually sincere. She wished the other girl very well. It was a unique sensation.

  Much more demonstrative, Georgia threw her arms around Rosabel. Bel tried not to stiffen but was relieved when the moment was short-lived. Georgia’s grin, when she pulled back, was even more mischievous.

  “You’ve been keeping secrets, Bel,” she said with a twinkle in her eye before she turned without further words.

  Rosabel couldn’t argue with her. She didn’t watch the happy couple take their leave. It would be dreadful to see her sister making a cake of herself. She was actually a little jealous of the close bond between her younger sister, Vicky, and her dearest friend. Bel had never thought she wanted for friends. But she realized, watching them, that what she had were connections, acquaintances, perhaps even rivals. Of course, she had her sisters and had always thought that was enough. Back home, she hadn’t been thrown into the company of Vicky and her frie
nd as much as she had while here in London. Witnessing their friendship had demonstrated that even her relationships with her sisters were not the same at all. She supposed she ought to work on that. Vicky, especially, would be feeling the loss of her friend now that Georgia had gotten married and would be travelling for some time. One could argue that it was Bel’s responsibility as the oldest to be there for her sister. If only the thought didn’t sound so very tedious.

  In the spirit of being friendly and helpful, Rosabel pinned a pleasant smile to her face and turned to survey the crowd once more. She ought to practice her wiles as hostess. Surely someday, should she find her love match, she would have to host his entertainments. She understood from her mother there were responsibilities associated with that. She had been trained from the cradle in most of them. Bel knew how to plan a menu, decorate, entertain, and all those types of things. But she realized she ought to practice ensuring people were actually having a good time.

  She spotted the small collection of awkward debutantes standing on the side of the room. There were three of them. They didn’t appear to be particularly friends with one another, but to Bel’s suddenly perceptive eye, she would surmise they had decided there was safety in numbers and they were sticking together so as to not face the event alone.

  Rosabel wasn’t certain what she was going to do once she got there, but she set across the room with the aim of doing something for the poor awkward things. The fact that they were on the other side of the room from Lord Prescott was also in their favour. Bel couldn’t believe anyone had invited him. She knew her family wasn’t friends with him, and she had never noticed Crossley to be either. She pushed the unwelcome thoughts from her mind.

  To her surprise, Rosabel could feel a watchful gaze following her. She supposed she was often under scrutiny, but she rarely noticed it. This time, it felt like a weight on her shoulders. Or maybe more like heat burning into the space between her shoulder blades, on the back of her neck. Rosabel hoped it wasn’t Prescott. It felt different from his oily scrutiny, but she was too keyed up to be certain of anything. She tried to be nonchalant as she glanced around. Her stride almost faltered when her gaze once more collided with that of the Duke of Wexford.