Miss Bannerman and The Duke Read online

  title page

  Miss Bannerman and the Duke

  Fenella J. Miller

  ...

  Aurora Regency

  An imprint of

  Musa Publishing

  Copyright Information

  Miss Bannerman and the Duke, Copyright © Fenella J. Miller, 2011

  All Rights Reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior written permission of the publisher.

  ...

  This e-Book is a work of fiction. While references may be made to actual places or events, the names, characters, incidents, and locations within are from the author’s imagination and are not a resemblance to actual living or dead persons, businesses, or events. Any similarity is coincidental.

  ...

  Musa Publishing

  633 Edgewood Ave

  Lancaster, OH 43130

  www.musapublishing.com

  ...

  First Published by Aurora Regency Historicals/AMP, August, 2011

  Aurora Regency is an imprint of Musa Publishing

  ...

  This e-Book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of International Copyright Law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines and/or imprisonment. No part of this ebook can be reproduced or sold by any person or business without the express permission of the publisher.

  ...

  ISBN: 978-1-61937-074-6

  ...

  Editor: Celina Summers

  Cover Design: Kelly Shorten

  Interior Book Design: Coreen Montagna

  Prologue

  1810

  Rose peered down from the highest branches of the oak tree. “See, Millie, they are coming this way.”

  Her twin shifted nervously on her perch. “I said we shouldn’t climb this tree, Papa will be furious. Whilst Mama is away we are supposed to be on our best behaviour, not scrambling about in the tops of trees like village children.”

  Rose giggled and let the branches drop. When their brother, David, had arrived for an unexpected visit bringing two friends with him, she had been determined to view them for herself. There was little likelihood she, or her sister, would get an opportunity to meet them. Such lofty members of society as these two young gentlemen would not wish to be introduced to a pair of schoolgirls; she and Millie were well below their notice.

  When David was home he always strolled around the park after breakfast. From the vantage point of the ancient oak they would be able to stare without being observed. At least that had been the plan, but if Millie continued her wriggling they would shortly be discovered. Although this escapade, as always, had been at her instigation this time she did not wish to be found culpable.

  David would laugh and the fair gentleman with merry blue eyes would also take it in good part. The tallest of the three, the one with raven black hair and scowling features concerned her. She did not wish to be in his bad books. Before she could stop her, Millie scrambled to a lower branch and sat, her legs dangling, waiting to be seen. Rose pressed herself into the shadows and prayed she would remain undetected.

  “What have we here?” It wasn’t David who had stopped but the fair gentleman. “A damsel in distress. Come, fair maiden, allow me to rescue you.”

  Millie dropped like a stone into his arms. It would have seemed to those below she had done it deliberately. Rose knew her sister had lost her grip and fallen from her perch inadvertently. The young man staggered but somehow remained on his feet, after all Millie was not a huge weight.

  “I beg your pardon, sir; I slipped.” Millie’s glorious blonde curls had escaped from their restraining ribbon and were tumbling about her shoulders. Everyone said how different the sisters were, not identical in any way. At thirteen years of age Millie was already a beauty; she looked like their mama whilst Rose was the image of their father.

  “Millie, you’re incorrigible. Miss Evans will be most displeased; you had best run along to the schoolroom directly,” David said sternly.

  Suitably chastened, Millie dropped her head, curtsied and then hurried away without a second thought. The bark was cutting into Rose’s palms. Why didn’t they move on? She wished she’d not climbed quite so high, wished she’d not been left to scramble down alone.

  Her brother informed his friends. “That was Amelia; I expect Rosamond had more sense than to climb a tree.”

  The fair gentleman replied as he brushed himself free of debris. “She will turn a few heads when she’s out. To have such beauty, be of impeccable breeding and with a substantial dowry—you will have your work cut out keeping her safe, David.”

  Rose pressed her cheek against the trunk waiting until she could safely descend. The voices faded. They must be far enough away for her to attempt to get down. She tried to let go, to swing around and lower her slippers to the next branch. Her limbs refused to obey her commands. She was frozen to the spot. A slight noise below made her cling on all the tighter. She clenched her teeth to hold back a whimper of fear.

  “Sit still, child, I shall have you down safely in a moment.” A lean brown hand reached up and prised her rigid fingers from their grip. “Relax, little one, I shall not drop you. Allow me to turn you round, then put your arms around my neck and your legs around my waist and I shall have you on the ground in no time at all.”

  His hands were warm, strong, capable—her fear trickled away and she let him do as he suggested. With her face resting against his collar she inhaled a comforting mix of lemon soap and horses. She kept her eyes firmly closed, hung on for grim death until her world stopped moving.

  “There, as promised, back on terra firma. You can open your eyes and let go, you are safe.” Her fingers unclenched and she was lowered gently to the path, but the firm hold on her upper arms remained. “Look at me. I wish to see the face of the young lady I risked my life and limbs to rescue.”

  Reluctantly Rose raised her head. She already knew who she would see, it could only be the saturnine gentleman for her brother and the fair one had long gone. “Thank you, sir, I’m not usually so chickenhearted. I cannot think why I couldn’t scramble down this time.”

  He smiled. He looked quite different when he did so, almost handsome in a devilish kind of way. “That was a prodigious height you climbed; perhaps you will not be so easily persuaded next time?”

  Good grief! He thought the escapade Millie’s idea. She would not disabuse him; he might become the formidable stranger she had spied from her perch. Dropping into a graceful curtsey she mumbled a second thank you and sped away before he could question her further.

  Perry watched the girl he’d just carried down from the tree through narrowed eyes. She was as unlike her twin as chalk was to cheese. Where Amelia had periwinkle blue eyes, golden curls and already showed signs of a pleasing form, Rosamond had plain mouse-brown hair and was thin as a stick. But there was something about the girl that intrigued him, he had seen intelligence in her remarkable violet eyes. His lips twitched. If he was honest, he would, like most gentlemen, select the livelier sister, the one who had instigated the tree climbing and not her quieter, plainer sibling.

  “Perry, where the devil are you?”

  “David, I’m coming. Did you know that this is a Turkey oak? You can detect the species by examining the foliage.”

  His host clapped him on the shoulder. “I might have known something like that would catch your interest. Already you’re becoming a dry old stick, and you only three and twenty.”

  Chapter One

  181
5

  “Mama, why do I have to attend this ball? Why not put an advertisement in The Times instead?”

  “Rose, my love, I do wish you would not say such things. You know I’m depending on you or Millie to make an advantageous marriage. If you do not your brother shall inherit a bankrupt title and estate.”

  “Exactly so—as it is the wealth of my future husband that is paramount, why do I have to go through the bother of parading like a prize mare at Tattersall’s? If they present their credentials, you can select one for me.”

  Her sister dabbed her eyes with a miniscule cotton square. “How can you make fun of our situation, Rose? I cannot bear the thought of marrying without affection. I’m praying I shall be able to love my future husband, whatever the reasons behind our nuptials.”

  Rose smiled. “Then it’s up to me to be less choosy. For you, dearest, it is quite different. You are bound to be the most beautiful young woman at Almack’s tonight; you will have a dozen suitors banging on the door tomorrow morning. Surely you can fall in love with one of them?”

  “If you would only smile and pretend to be enjoying yourself you might also attract someone pleasant.”

  Rose noticed her sister did not suggest it would be anyone eligible, or even attractive. No, her lot was to marry an elderly widower with a brood of children needing a step-mama. Ah well! As long as he had very deep pockets and left her to her own devices, she would be content.

  “A gentleman does not like to be stared at so disdainfully even from someone as lovely as you,” her sister chided.

  “When at your side, Millie, I become invisible. I will own I have handsome eyes, a trim figure and an abundance of shiny brown hair. My appearance is not fashionable. Being a diminutive golden goddess is essential for success in the ton this season.” She stared thoughtfully at her reflection in the mantel mirror. “I am several inches taller than you. That, combined with my lack of fair hair, is more than enough to deter all but the most desperate of suitors.”

  She shrugged and turned away; appearances were not everything. There was only one man who stirred her heart, and he could not be called a truly handsome man by all but the most besotted of mamas. Neither was he to be found where she was bound that night.

  Rose had never forgotten the gentleman who had climbed up the oak tree to rescue her all those years ago. Peregrine Adolphus Edward Sinclair, Marquis of Bentley, Duke of Essex—his name as impressive as himself. He was too top lofty to consider either of them as his bride. She doubted he would attend the marriage mart. From what she had learned about the Duke he was easily bored and only attended the occasional ball or soiree.

  Her maid shook out an invisible crease in her gown. “There, Miss Rose, you look a picture. Lavender silk complements your eyes.” The girl handed over the matching reticule and fan and then stood back to admire her handiwork.

  Millie, beautiful in the palest gold sarsenet, smiled sympathetically. “I know; too many flounces and rouleaux. The gown would have suited you better if the modiste had made it plain, the way you requested it.”

  “I look ridiculous. I know it, and so shall every other person at Almack’s tonight. If Papa was not still abroad on business, he would have taken my part.” She frowned. “In fact, this scheme of our mother’s does not have his blessing. I hope he appreciates the sacrifice I’m going to make.”

  Mama rustled in, magnificent in purple silk and the egret feathers on her turban bobbing wildly.

  “Come, girls, we must not keep the horses standing. Do try and look happy, Rosamond. I declare you will scare away the gentlemen frowning like that.”

  “Let us hope so,” Rose said raising an elegant eyebrow at her sister. The only fortunate aspect of their reduced circumstances was the fact they had not had their own come-out ball. They had attended a few select musical evenings and soirees, but this was to be their first fully public event. The best she could hope for was to be ignored, the worst was to be asked to dance and reveal not only was she dressed like a maypole, she danced like one too.

  Her mother was an inveterate card player, fortunately not a gambler, so would join other likeminded matrons in an anteroom as soon as she and Millie had been introduced to a few gentlemen. Rose intended to slip away and hide behind a curtain where she could read the new novel she had secreted in her reticule. Her sister was a sensible girl and would behave with the utmost rectitude. She was more likely to do something to scandalise society.

  If only David had not accompanied their papa; he was well established in Town and could have introduced Millie to several of his friends. Her heart skipped a beat. There was only one of his friends she wanted to be formally introduced to and there was no chance of that. Her feelings for this man could be no more than an infatuation; after all, she had only met him once and he would surely have forgotten all about her.

  Without any prompting, her brother had on his frequent visits kept her up to date with the exploits of his friends. The fair gentleman was Richard Devonshire, oldest son of Sir Peter Devonshire, no more than comfortably situated. Her gentleman, despite his not being in the accepted mode, could pick and choose his bride. No young lady would quibble if a Duke offered for her. The fact that he was a young and vigorous man, rather than an elderly roué, would only add to his eligibility. He was, most certainly, the catch of the season.

  Knowing full well the impossibility of marrying the man who had occupied her thoughts for the past five years, Rose decided she would forfeit herself on the altar of matrimony for the good of her family. Darling Millie was far too susceptible, too sensitive to be asked to marry someone she did not love. The fact that marriage would involve unpleasant intimacies was something Rose pushed firmly to the back of her mind.

  “Perry, I implore you, think about this. You will be nine and twenty next month and are the last of your line. It would be catastrophic if you died without an heir. That doesn’t bear thinking about; if there is a next in line somewhere he is so far removed from us he will be impossible.”

  “Laura, my dear, I’m not about to kick the bucket. I’m in my prime, I’ve plenty of time to set up my nursery.” He eyed his older sister with disfavour, he was heartily sick of being berated for his lack of interest in finding a wife. “However, as today is your name day, I shall agree, just this once, to attend Almack’s tonight. The food is inedible, the wine undrinkable and the company not much better. I would rather have my teeth pulled.”

  Obviously satisfied now she had achieved her aim, Laura chose to ignore his last remark. “If you will stand up with Emma she is guaranteed a successful season. What point is there of having a Duke for an uncle if he is not there to sponsor his niece?”

  This was too much. “Heavens above, Laura, am I not paying for her season? Have I not opened up my townhouse for you? Am I not to hold a ball in her honour in a few weeks’ time?”

  He frowned, no longer amused by this conversation. “I have business to attend to; I shall not accompany you to that wretched place, but you have my word I shall put in an appearance at some point.”

  “I beg your pardon. I did not wish to offend you.”

  He stared down his nose at her. “However, I do not intend to dance. Just being there is enough punishment.”

  Perry strode off. The thought of having to wear knee breeches and silk stockings appalled him. He had adopted the recent fashion of pantaloons and evening shoes – far more comfortable—and he resented being obliged to change his style in order to be let into that place. He had heard— at his club—that Wellington himself had been refused entry for turning up incorrectly dressed.

  That’s what came from allowing women too much power. The three ladies who ruled the roost at Almack’s were not to his taste. When he did eventually become leg-shackled he would make very sure his bride was biddable. He grinned. The notion was an impossible conundrum. He doubted there was a young lady in London who would meet his stringent requirements. First, to be obedient to his wishes and second, to have a lively personality and
ready wit.

  In his experience—and these past six years it had been an extensive—he had discovered one either got obedience or wit – never both. He chuckled as he recalled a young lady he’d been introduced to three years ago. If she hadn’t been reminiscent of a bovine she would have suited him perfectly. He must add a third requirement to his list. The young lady he would choose must also be reasonably attractive.

  Rose had curtsied and smiled until her face ached. She had considered adopting a limp, thus preventing any partners from asking her to dance, but that would be unfair to Mama and Millie. The two were already sorely afflicted by being accompanied by an over decorated beanpole, for the beanpole also to be infirm would be the outside of enough.

  So she adopted the expression of a frightened rabbit, starting at every comment and looking away and fussing with her reticule and fan as if too shy to contemplate an answer. This combination had put off even the bravest of souls.

  “Rosamond, I’m in despair at your behaviour tonight. Thank the Lord your sister is more accommodating. See how she’s enjoying herself? Would you not like to be dancing as she is?”

  “No, Mama, I would not. I am sufficiently conspicuous lurking here in the shadows. Imagine my chagrin if I were to be exposed in this hideous garment in the centre of the dance floor?”

  Her mama threw up her hands in despair. “You would not behave this way if your papa was here.”

  “I would not be here at all if he was home. Why don’t you join your friends for a game of whist? I shall be perfectly safe behind this pillar. Millie will come to no harm now she is under the protection of Lady Eleanor Dashwood. It is fortuitous an old school friend of yours is here to act as chaperone.” Her mother vanished in the crowd.

  Rose was about to creep away to find herself a private corner when she overheard a group of young gentleman.