The Duchess and the Duelist (Friendship Series Book 4) Read online

  THE DUCHESS AND THE DUELIST

  Friendship Series Book 4

  by Julia Donner

  The Duchess and the Duelist Copyright © 2014 M.L.Rigdon (Julia Donner) All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or retransmitted in any form or by any means without the permission of the author.

  Cover Design and Illustration by Stephen D Case [email protected]

  The Friendship Series

  The Tigresse and the Raven

  The Heiress and the Spy

  The Rake and the Bishop’s Daughter

  The Duchess and the Duelist

  An excerpt from Book 5 in the Friendship Series, The Dark Earl and His Runaway is included.

  Dedicated to Kimberly Todd Shelford, sister in Christ and choir, who listened with patience and gifted me with her support and prayers during a sad time. This series is being written due to the blessings of friendships like hers.

  Asterly House

  Cavendish Square, London

  Winter 1819

  Chapter 1

  Evangeline Merrick hesitated before descending the staircase. She needed another moment to remind herself that she could maintain her secret. For over twelve, nerve-wrenching years she’d been successful in cloaking her true identity. She’d accomplished it in the heart of a society where everyone knew everyone, including their family connections and relative worth.

  She exhaled a slow breath. Only one more year, by then, it might be safe.

  No one paid attention to a servant. That was why she’d chosen to become one. With the help of a friend, and there were so few she could trust, she became a dresser to Lady Asterly and hid in that role for almost a decade. Unable to decline her ladyship, who possessed a quietly forceful nature, Evangeline had been catapulted beyond the servant class to become companion. In doing so, her generous patroness had unknowingly pushed Evangeline to the edge of her worst fear—the discovery of her real name and origins.

  The greatest difficulty for navigating this evening’s social minefield waited at the base of the stairs. The Honorable Alfred Bates smiled up at her, a knowing grin of challenge—the same expression he’d worn a month before, when he’d flirted and teased her throughout dinner.

  She suspected he knew that Lady Asterly’s companion was someone and something other than whom she pretended to be. And he was right. She and Mr. Bates had met many years before. Back then, sixteen and naive, she had no inkling of how her bright, shining future would change in a matter of weeks.

  But did Bates remember her? If he did, would he reveal what she must—at any cost—keep hidden? If he would not, how could she convince him to remain silent for another year?

  Recent events created another complication. This morning, a measles scare erupted in the houses on Cavendish Square. Lord and Lady Asterly immediately got into a traveling coach with their toddler twins and drove to Marshfield in Kent. Lady Asterly would stay there with the children until the disease had run its course in town, while Lord Asterly returned to London to attend parliamentary sessions. He wouldn’t arrive back in town in time to welcome his newly married brother, Sir Harry, and his bride, Lady Collyns. Immediately after their wedding, they’d escaped to Rolands, Harry’s estate in Kent. The happy couple were driving up from Rolands directly to Asterly House before readying to set sail for Italy the following week. The task of greeting and entertaining the newlyweds unexpectedly fell to Evangeline.

  It never occurred to her to refuse her patroness, but it did have her worrying about Mr. Bates. He hadn’t been shy with his attentions the last time he’d been here and made his objective clear by usurping the chair next to hers at the informal dinner. If not for the forbidding looks laid on him from her dear friend, Olivia, and Lady Asterly, his persuasiveness would have overwhelmed Evangeline’s fears. But he had relented under their combined visual chastisements.

  Mr. Bates started up the staircase to escort her down. From the look on his face, he had every intention to continue his pursuit. Her heart began to pound. She tried to calm her breathing to hide the anxious trembling. It felt so odd and confusing, to experience fear and excitement at the same time. His reputation and the glint in his eyes created a melting sensation while gripping her with the urge to flee.

  Bates, heir to Viscount Grieves, was the holdout of the quartet known as the Four Eligibles, the last unwed, but affianced to a cousin in his native Cornwall. He was also known as Arm-winger Freddy for his uncanny gift with firearms. Gentlemen never minded dueling with him. All it cost them was a new coat after he barely creased an arm, not an easy feat when the opponent stood sideways. Even as a child, he’d been able to pierce the eye of any flying fowl or running game. He possessed a frightening talent for accuracy, but that wasn’t what set Evangeline’s heart to fluttering whenever he came near. It wasn’t the romantic waves of black hair so fine the ends floated over his shoulders, nor the clever, suggestive gleam in sapphire eyes. Her distress stemmed from having no will to resist his commanding presence. No one else disturbed her so thoroughly, a pull as relentless as the tug of the withdrawing tide.

  Externally, Bates appeared relaxed to the point of laziness, but when standing near him, one couldn’t fail to feel the draw of his charisma. A subtle power similar to menace hung over him—that of the hunter on the scent of bloodied prey.

  He stopped a step below the one on which she stood, which brought him to slightly above eye level. The only thing average about him was his height. His strong facial features—square-jaw, cleft chin and straight slashes of black eyebrows—clashed with his careless attitude. She gripped her fan like a lifeline.

  Before he took her free hand, she knew what was going to happen, and it did. A jolt of awareness rippled up her arm, an attraction that took all of her will to resist. He smiled, slow and knowing, as if he sensed and shared her sensations.

  Did his allure stem from his air of danger? She didn’t know. She only knew that he could be her downfall. He might already know her real name and merely be toying with her, playing a game to amuse a jaded spirit, or orchestrate the downfall of an imposter.

  Their brief introduction occurred so long ago, on the occasion of her marriage. If Bates remembered, he was clever enough to hide his hand until the perfect moment to play his trump card.

  For her part, wedding day happiness blurred her memory of the smaller aspects of the event, but she never forgot the sharpness of bright blue eyes set in a swarthy complexion. And like the prey she was, she stilled when his voice, debonair and suggestive, slid over her skin and did strange things to her insides.

  “Mrs. Merrick, you find me honored to be of service to you this evening. Pity how Perry and Lizzie left you all alone to deal with the newlyweds.”

  Since the only reply she could muster was a feeble smile, he continued as he escorted her down the wide staircase. “And as much as I find the style of your gown delightful, I would love to see you in a color more provocative than half-mourning. Perhaps a delicate peach or rose to enhance your green eyes?”

  His thumb lightly brushed the back of her gloved hand, rendering her wordless. In a gently mocking tone, he said, “According to your dear friend, Lady Collyns, Mr. Merrick has been enjoying the fruits of the afterlife for more than a decade. Both of you married just out of the schoolroom and widowed so soon after. How tragic. That is a long time for a woman to be alone in the world.”

  Evangeline hid a gulp of alarm. Was that a subtle threat? Had he somehow discovered the truth?

  By the time they reached the bottom step, she managed to sort out her scattered wits. She had to respond, say or do something beyond looking
and acting like a terrorized rabbit.

  “In heaven my husband may be, sir, but honoring his memory here makes him feel closer.”

  “Ah, so there was a Mr. Merrick? Some ladies elect to adopt the title.”

  He immediately released her hand when she moved to withdraw, but his piercing gaze held her as captive as a butterfly pinned to a velvet pad. A satisfied smile curved his wide mouth when she suppressed a retort by pressing her lips into a line.

  “Forgive me, ma’am. That was ungallant of me. I can’t seem to restrain myself from provoking you. Very bad of me, especially since you are that rarity, a true and loyal wife, even to a spouse gone to his reward. How unique. Ah, the newlyweds have arrived.”

  Turning to the footmen opening the doors, Evangeline welcomed a rush of gratitude for the reprieve and the sight of her friend coming through. She hastened forward, her hands out in greeting to Lady Collyns.

  “Ollie, I’m so happy you’re safely arrived! There was talk of freezing rain on the roads.”

  Rosewater’s calming scent came with Olivia, bathing Evangeline’s face and heart with a comforting balm. The new Lady Collyns pressed her winter-chilled cheek to hers.

  “Evie, thank you for taking Lady Asterly’s place tonight. The house on Mayfair is quarantined for measles. I tried to explain that I’d gone through the ordeal as a child, and Mrs. Brinkley told me through a crack in the door that Harry had not and must not enter the house.”

  Sir Harry bowed to Evangeline and took her hand to kiss. “My thanks, as well, Mrs. Merrick.” He looked over her right shoulder, and with a smirk, murmured, “Freddy.”

  Behind her, she felt Mr. Bates step closer. His heat and presence burned into her back. “Harald. I see that Lady Collyns has knocked some sense into your pretty head and has gotten you to accept eyewear. Tinted glass. How very like you.”

  Sir Harry’s deep, dulcet baritone replied, “Must be able to see my enemies.”

  A frisson of something dangerous skittered up Evangeline’s spine. As longtime friends, the two men loved each other as brothers, but that never stopped them from competing. Whenever they were together, unspoken challenges crackled in the air.

  Evangeline summoned up fortitude and said to the newlyweds, “I’ll ask Crimm to prepare rooms for you. Your valet and maid are with you?”

  Olivia answered, “Below stairs with the staff.”

  Evangeline tucked her arm through Olivia’s. “I’m sure Crimm will see to their needs. Shall we go up to the green saloon? Dinner has been set back.”

  The doorknocker’s thump stopped them on the way to the staircase. Footmen opened the door, and Crimm, the Asterlys’ butler, appeared from the shadows to intercept the caller, since no one else was expected until dinner.

  A man stepped into the foyer, elegant even though his clothes were out of date. Everyone stared, couldn’t stop from studying the unusual sight. Gracefully slim, tall and dignified, the man scanned the assembled at the steps. Gleaming black eyes held the mystery of the ages. His ebony skin glowed under the lamplight. When his gaze settled on Lady Collyns, he bowed.

  The caller said nothing and diverted his attention to Crimm, who asked, “May I inquire as to your business here?”

  “If you would be so good as to allow me a few minutes with the wife of the late Reverend St. Clair.”

  All attention turned to Olivia, whose soft gasp was followed by her rapid question, “You knew my husband?”

  Evangeline actually felt Sir Harry’s flinch. For all his fame as the most handsome and jovial gentleman in the land, she’d lived in this household long enough to understand that Lord Asterly’s brother had a darker side that surfaced when provoked. She’d overheard his lordship say that his twin harbored an unexplained resentment for Olivia’s first husband.

  The caller bowed again to Olivia but didn’t move forward. “I am Etienne Plaquard, indebted in no small way to your late husband.”

  Olivia reached for Evangeline’s hand, grasping it in a tight clasp, entreaty in her lovely brown eyes. No one could resist that doe-eyed expression, and her friend used it frequently, but in this instance, her plea was sincere.

  Olivia whispered, “Evie, would you ask him to come up? Do you mind?”

  Evangeline had never refused her friend anything and had no intention of putting a blot on that record. “Monsieur Plaquard, I am Mrs. Merrick, acting as hostess for my patroness, Lady Asterly.”

  She made introductions all around, and when everyone had politely bowed—although Sir Harry’s had a grudging nuance—Evangeline asked, “Would you care to come up to speak with Lady Collyns, Monsieur Plaquard?”

  As they went up to the first floor, Evangeline explained, “We will be few in number this evening. The Ravenswolds have also returned to the country with their children. The Trivertons had not brought their children down, but Lord Triverton was called away on business. Lady Triverton did not wish to send a regret and will be joining us. Therefore, Monsieur Plaquard, you have become a godsend, arriving as you have, to even our numbers at table.”

  As hostess, she would decide on seating arrangements, unlike the last time she’d sat down with Mr. Bates. She could banish him to the far end of the table, but that wouldn’t help when the meal was over. When the gentlemen had finished smoking and after dinner port, they would join the ladies. A long evening of fending off the too observant comments of Mr. Bates and his unsettling presence stretched ahead. She had no illusions. He would marry another, but until that day, as a widow, he would consider her fair game.

  Chapter 2

  After a cigarillo and final glass of wine, Freddy Bates left the gentlemen early to escape the usual gossip and political discussions. His plan was to capture the empty place on the couch beside the enticing Mrs. Merrick. She usually tended to after dinner refreshments whenever Lady Asterly entertained, then disappeared as soon as possible. Tonight, as hostess, she couldn’t escape.

  Although she revealed nothing more than a polite nod when he sat down beside her—without asking permission—he registered every nuance of her discomfort. She was as aware of him as he was of her. Time to begin the chase.

  He allowed her time to adjust to his nearness by observing the guests on the other side of the room. The hum of muted chatter should have sounded pleasant, but instead, irritated. The rest of the men had followed him, and everyone gathered around Harry. Typical. The man garnered all the attention wherever he went, but tonight, they collected around Harry as an excuse to overhear what was being discussed between Lady Collyns and the mysterious Plaquard.

  “He handled himself well at table,” Freddy murmured. “Were you not concerned for the sensibilities of your patroness? She might consider such a breach of etiquette an affront to her establishment.” When Mrs. Merrick raised her blond eyebrows with a silent question, he pointed out, “You did invite a member of the lower orders to her dining table.”

  “Perhaps you might keep in mind that Lady Collyns is my friend, her ladyship’s sister-in-law, and a guest in this house. Her request must be respected. For my part, I do not have it in me to disappoint Lady Collyns.”

  Noticing a crumb on his knee, he brushed off the speck and looked at the lady sitting only inches away. She was not pleased and for once, didn’t bother to hide it. He’d give her a nudge to see if she’d take the bait. “I would agree that Lizzie nourishes a broad view of what is proper. I’ve seen the most remarkable characters invited into her salon. But then, one must consider her background.”

  He pursed his lips to cover a smirk of victory when Evangeline’s eyes narrowed. Her breathing deepened and her shoulders pulled back, a posture that pressed her small bosom against the modest décolletage. He’d found a breach in her stoicism. Before he could test the weakness, she laid on him a glare of icy distain.

  “Sir, do you presume to disparage my patroness and your friend’s wife?”

  He decided to give this maternal bear a poke through the slats of her fragile cage. “One must take into accou
nt her sympathies, ma’am. After all, her father was merely a rich merchant.”

  For a moment, he thought she might slap him or hit him over the head with something off the tray. Her hand twitched then fisted in her lap. “Sir, you will take back those words about an exceedingly fine lady, and if you do not already know, her mother was a Von Hapsburg and related to most of Europe’s royalty, even our king.”

  She paled when he laughed. “Mrs. Merrick, you are an easy mark. Draw in your claws. Lizzie is the best of women, and I’ll have the head of anyone who dares to disagree. Take a page from her book, ma’am. She would have scoffed at my teasing. More than likely called me the jackanapes that I am. You are far too easy to provoke.”

  After a scornful glance, but not a word, his target jerked her attention back to the task of serving. Had he considered her demure? She was a dashed clever girl and quite the accomplished actress. He didn’t mind that. Most women were.

  She resumed her façade as swiftly as a fallen curtain quenches a dramatic scene. She again exuded serenity and a placid front, but he knew otherwise. She was a woman of stark passions and concealed opinions. Carefully suppressed anxiety roiled beneath the surface calm. Push her the wrong way, and she’d go off as swiftly as a hair trigger.

  Her ability to hide her true self was one of the things that drew him, compelled him to seek her out. His inability to curb the urge to provoke her amused him as much as it titillated. He loved that she was complex and an enigma.

  Did she know that the pout of her upper lip from a slight overbite was nothing less than outright provocation? There was that certain something about her, a niggling sense of familiarity. There was also an unusually strong component of lust. That she pretended not to reciprocate whetted the impulse to chase and conquer. But cool, self-effacing Mrs. Merrick knew how to retreat. She never did anything to set herself apart.