Fit for a Duke: Dangerous Dukes

  Dangerous Dukes

  Fit for a Duke

  Wendy Soliman

  Dangerous Dukes Series

  Fit for a Duke

  Copyright © Wendy Soliman 2021

  Edited by Perry Iles

  Cover Design by Clockwork Art

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

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any method, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise without the prior written permission of

  The Author – Wendy Soliman

  This 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. The e-Book cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this e-Book can be shared or reproduced without the express permission of the author.

  Chapter One

  ‘I can scarce believe he has agreed to come!’ Beth exclaimed, clapping her hands with delight. ‘He never shows himself anywhere. The entire ton has quite despaired of ever getting the reclusive duke to show his face in society, as is his duty.’

  ‘Of course he will come, my love,’ Lady Fletcher said, smiling broadly at her daughter. ‘How could he possibly decline my invitation? I am, after all, a close friend of his dear mama’s, and I saw young Lord Ezra, as he was at the time, frequently during his childhood. I watched him grow up, truth to tell. He and his friends ran quite wild and were always getting into scrapes.’ Lady Fletcher smiled at the memory. ‘Such high spirits as ever you could imagine. But then Lord Ezra was permitted more freedom than his elder brothers. As the youngest of three boys, no one ever assumed that he would become the duke.’

  ‘Why did he? Become the duke, that is, Aunt?’ Clio asked.

  ‘Well, my love, it was all terribly sad. Freddie, the eldest, was always a sickly child. His birth was a difficult one and he wasn’t expected to survive, but he showed the true Delaney fighting spirit and defied everyone. He was cosseted, of course, because he was never strong. He wasn’t sent away to school and every care was taken with his welfare.’

  ‘That must have been difficult for him, to be denied the rite of passage that all young gentlemen enjoy, if that is the right way to describe experiencing those brutal bastions of learning,’ Adele said. ‘Mixing with their peers, forging friendships and that sort of thing is important though. Even I can see that.’

  ‘Riding spirited horses and getting into scrapes is just as important,’ Clio added.

  ‘I don’t know about that, my dears, but I do know that Lord Freddie understood his duty and was prepared to assume the dukedom when the time came. Sadly it never did.’

  ‘What happened to the next brother?’ Beth asked. ‘I have never heard anyone refer to it.’ She rolled her eyes mischievously. ‘It’s shrouded in secrecy, as though the family are ashamed of Lord Richard.’

  ‘Far from it,’ Lady Fletcher replied. ‘The fact of the matter is that Lord Richard died as the result of a silly accident. He had over-imbibed, as young men are wont to do. I cannot say that I approve. No good ever comes of riotous behaviour. However, be that as it may, these things happen. I think he and his friends were indulging in dares that got out of hand and—’

  ‘What sort of dares?’ Clio and Adele asked together. Their gazes clashed and they burst out laughing, their lively imaginations perfectly attuned.

  ‘Really, girls, it is no laughing matter. The poor boy lost his life, falling from…well, something.’ She flapped a bejewelled hand. ‘I am not entirely sure of the particulars. Poor Lord Freddie had caught a fever and pre-deceased his father and Lord Richard had become the new Duke of Wickham, that much I do know. He did not assume that exalted position for long though, and Lord Ezra—who considered himself footloose and fancy free and was enjoying that situation immensely—returned from Waterloo, having helped to put that wretched little Frenchman firmly in his place once and for all, and found himself the new duke.’

  ‘You make that sound like a bad thing, Mama,’ Beth said. ‘It is very sad that both of his brothers died, but surely Lord Ezra—whom I suppose we must now refer to as ‘his grace’—will want to do his duty and uphold his family’s honour.’

  ‘Oh, I dare say he does my love,’ Lady Fletcher replied, pinching Beth’s cheek, ‘and I am equally sure he will find his burden far easier to bear with the right wife by his side. And once he sees you, the matter will be all but settled, I am absolutely sure of it.’

  ‘Oh, Mama!’ Beth lowered her eyes and a gentle blush touched her cheeks. ‘It may come to nothing. We had best not get our hopes up only to have them dashed.’

  Clio fought the urge to laugh at such an unconvincing display of reticence. But then again, Beth was a vision and had been praised for her looks and good nature since the cradle. There had never been any question that she would make a spectacular marriage, and Clio accepted that Beth had little to be modest about.

  ‘His grace holds me in great affection and knows that I shall not permit the matrons to throw their charges at him during the course of my house party.’ Lady Fletcher shook her head, causing her multiple chins to wobble somewhat alarmingly. Clio knew her aunt didn’t consider throwing Beth in the duke’s path as coercion since no one, in her biased opinion, could possibly resist her elder daughter’s charms once they had been brought to his attention. A mother, she never tired of reminding the girls, had a duty in that regard. She insisted that it would save the dear duke from the tedium of trawling through a throng of eligible parties. ‘The poor man deserves to enjoy himself without having to watch his step the entire time.’

  ‘Besides,’ Adele added with a mischievous smile that she shared with Clio, ‘you are so lovely, Beth, that I dare say the disagreeable duke will take one look at you, fall madly in love and then all his troubles will be over.’

  ‘I am sure he is anything but disagreeable,’ Lady Fletcher chided, smiling at her younger daughter as she did so. ‘However, I cannot help holding out hope with regard to Beth. Indeed, my love, your sister does not exaggerate. You are indeed so beautiful and so accomplished and biddable and…well, I am sure the duke will be enchanted.’

  ‘She is fit for a duke in all respects,’ Clio dutifully agreed.

  Everything that Lady Fletcher had just said was the truth. She had simply forgotten to add that Beth had difficulty in stringing two intelligible sentences together. Not that it signified. She was so amiable that no one held her lack of intellect against her. Indeed, ladies were not expected to be clever, and girls like Clio who were blessed with enquiring minds and a love of learning were actively discouraged from displaying those traits in front of gentlemen for fear of alarming them. Gentlemen, it was generally agreed, disliked being eclipsed by the weaker sex.

  Clio would try very hard over the course of the upcoming party to remember her place and not say anything too intelligent. She had never attended such a splendid event before. The duke’s acceptance, which Lady Fletcher had managed to drop into every conversation she had with her peers, had ensured that everyone else who had received an invitation had accepted, and the huge house would be full to capacity for the first time since her uncle’s death.

  The future of the reclusive Duke of Wickham, his appearance, his habits and mannerisms had been endlessly speculated upon by the ladies of the house, as had his need for a wi
fe. Everyone agreed that he had a duty to procreate and could not procrastinate indefinitely in that regard. As a student of human nature, Clio was greatly looking forward to observing his behaviour. She wondered if he was a sensible man, lacking in pride, but suspected that the opposite was more likely to be true. Great men, in her limited experience, were full of self-importance. They were impatient, rude, and rode roughshod over the feelings of others.

  ‘Well, my dears, there is still so much to do. Beth, the seamstress will be here directly to put the finishing touches to your ballgown. You should make yourself ready for her arrival. Indeed, I shall stay with you, just in case my advice is required. We really ought to order you another walking gown as well, just in case we have rain and your hem gets muddy. It really wouldn’t do to…’

  Lady Fletcher’s voice faded as she and Beth walked away, continuing to talk of Beth’s wardrobe. Beth made occasional animated contributions to a subject that held her entire attention almost exclusively.

  ‘Phew!’ Adele flopped back on the settee she occupied, able to relax her rigid posture now that her mama had left the small salon she and Clio had hidden themselves away in, in the hope of avoiding the perpetual talk of the duke’s imminent arrival. They had failed in that endeavour when first Beth and then Lady Fletcher had tracked them down. ‘I’m sure that the great man will be high in the instep and find fault with everything he sees.’

  ‘I cannot imagine how anyone could fault this sumptuous mansion,’ Clio replied, referring to Windgates, the Fletcher residence that was buried in the heart of the tranquil Hampshire countryside. ‘Your mother and those who went before her had exquisite taste. From my observations of the various houses I have been farmed out to before my aunt generously took me in, the possession of a fortune and refined taste seldom go hand in hand. Ostentatious displays of wealth in an effort to outdo one’s neighbours seem to be more in vogue.’

  ‘I keep forgetting about your nomadic existence,’ Adele replied. ‘It cannot have been easy for you, never being able to put down roots.’

  ‘You make me sound like a dandelion, carried on the breeze,’ Clio commented.

  Adele giggled. ‘Sorry. Bad choice of words, but you know what I mean.’

  ‘I do, but I am settled here now, and your mama is very gracious to put up with me.’

  ‘We are cousins and you have saved my sanity, so it is I who should be grateful to you.’ Adele flipped through the pages of Beth’s discarded copy of La Belle Assemblee and, shaking her head, threw it aside again with an impatient sigh. Clio knew that like her, her cousin would prefer to immerse herself in the political pages of the day’s newspaper but would be scolded by her mama if she was caught following current affairs. ‘We shall watch the duke being charmed by Beth’s lack of guile and amuse ourselves as we observe all the disappointed misses who had planned to beat her to the spoils.’

  ‘I feel almost sorry for the poor man,’ Clio said, shuddering.

  ‘Save your sympathy, my dear. I dare say he is perfectly capable of defending himself against the wiles of a few silly females. Besides, I gather his manners are not all that they could be. I have heard that he delivered Lady Marlow the cut direct in the street just last week.’

  Clio raised a brow. ‘Taking gossip at face value. That isn’t like you.’

  Adele smiled. ‘True, but I dislike Lady Marlow intensely and I so desperately want it to be true. She is rude and forthright and she has a daughter the same age as Beth to marry off. Of course, she could have been married long since. I hear she has rejected several eligible offers, or more likely her mama has not permitted her to accept them because she is holding out for someone higher.’

  ‘The duke, one assumes. I have heard Beth remark often enough that he is beyond compare in terms of eligible gentlemen and we both know that she is an authority on the subject of eligibility.’

  ‘Precisely. Mama has invited Lady Marlow and the insipid Lady Cora to the party, goodness knows why. I suspect that Lady Marlow subtly petitioned for an invitation, and she is so influential within the ton that only a man of the duke’s ilk would dare to defy her.’ Adele chuckled. ‘I hope you shall not mind the sight of blood being spilled if Beth beats Lady Cora to the spoils.’

  ‘You have just given me a good reason to wish Beth well in that endeavour, even if he is curmudgeonly. And if she does succeed then your own future will be assured and you will not have to submit yourself to this rigmarole when you come out next year.’

  ‘We come out together!’ Adele protested. ‘We agreed on that point most specifically, and I shall not release you from your promise. I cannot survive the process without you. Together we can laugh at the absurdities. Alone, I would likely give offence and say something outrageous that would displease Mama. I cannot take society seriously, but you know as well as I that the prospect of launching Beth and me has kept Mama going since our father died at Waterloo. I cannot deprive her of that pleasure.’

  Clio’s expression sobered. ‘Yes, I do know that, which is why you and I should do all we can to promote the match between Beth and the duke, however disagreeable we might find him. If your mama has the pleasure of seeing her elder daughter become a duchess, then she will not mind quite so much what you do.’

  ‘We can but hope,’ Adele said without much optimism.

  Ezra Delaney, the Duke of Wickham, whose acceptance of Lady Fletcher’s invitation had created so much speculation, yawned behind his hand as he dismounted from Pharaoh, a lively black stallion and recent acquisition with whom he was enjoying an equally lively battle of wills. An early morning mist enshrouded Hyde Park, making it hard for Ezra to discern the presence of the gentlemen awaiting them there and spooking Pharaoh, who pranced sideways and snorted as Ezra tied his reins to a low branch.

  ‘It’s only a little fog,’ he chided. ‘Don’t be so dramatic.’

  ‘That beast will be the death of you yet,’ his friend Henry Fryer predicted.

  ‘It is not me who should be contemplating an early demise,’ Ezra replied. ‘Are you absolutely sure about this fiasco?’

  ‘No choice in the matter,’ Henry replied cheerfully. ‘Carstairs called me out and a gentleman cannot ignore a thrown gauntlet. It simply isn’t done. Anyway, I want to prove my undying love for Miss Hardwick.’

  The irony of that statement wasn’t lost on Ezra, who shivered. ‘Unless you die first,’ he pointed out. ‘Besides, she won’t know that you two idiots are fighting for her favours.’

  ‘Of course she will have heard. You are out of touch. Anything as salacious as a duel can never remain secret.’

  ‘Whether she knows or not is beside the point. Carstairs is a crack shot by all accounts.’

  Henry straightened his shoulders. ‘I am not too shabby myself.’

  ‘Which is why this entire affair is so ridiculous, to say nothing of unlawful.’

  ‘Look on the bright side, Ezra. If we get arrested then you will have a perfect excuse not to attend the house party you haven’t stopped complaining about. I still have no idea why you find parties so objectionable.’

  ‘It’s not the party that I mind.’

  ‘Yes, sorry, I keep forgetting how eligible you’re supposed to be.’

  Ezra laughed in spite of himself. ‘I wish I could forget it.’

  ‘Never mind. There are some attractive chits amongst this year’s debutantes. Beth Fletcher is a case in point. You could do a lot worse. I am sure that having her warming your bed as you beget a nursery full of heirs will be no great hardship.’

  ‘Don’t you ever take anything seriously?’

  ‘Not if I can possibly help it. You seem convinced that I am about to meet my maker, so there’s not a lot of point in fretting about it.’

  Ezra shook his head, well aware that he had been bested by his friend’s irrepressible good humour. He extended a hand to those who awaited them as they reached the appointed spot.

  ‘Gentlemen,’ he said, ‘have we exhausted all avenues of mitigation in
this affair?’

  ‘We have,’ Henry and Carstairs said simultaneously.

  ‘Very well. Do we have a physician present?’

  An elderly man with stooped shoulders and unsteady legs who had obviously been bribed to attend and looked as though he would benefit from the attentions of a doctor himself, stepped forward. His breath smelt of whisky.

  ‘Is that the best we can do?’ Ezra asked in a quiet aside to Carstairs’ second. The man shrugged, seemingly unconcerned.

  ‘Very well then.’ Ezra sighed. ‘Pistols at twenty paces.’ The pistols were produced by Carstairs’ second.

  ‘I say! Mighty fine weapons,’ Henry enthused.

  ‘Like ’em, do you?’ Carstairs replied. ‘Handed down from the grandfather, don’t you know.’

  ‘Civil of you to provide them.’

  ‘It was the least I could do.’

  Ezra marvelled at the casually polite exchange between two men who were intent upon blowing one another’s brains out. If this was the way that society settled disputes, Ezra congratulated himself upon having little taste for the rigmarole. The combatants chose their weapons while chatting amiably about the forthcoming house party that Henry had just referred to.

  Ezra glanced at Carstairs’ second, wondering if he too found the entire situation ridiculous, but the man behaved as though it was the most natural thing in the world. For all the animosity that didn’t exist between Henry and Carstairs, the two of them could be passing the time of day at White’s or sitting down to a game of cards. Ezra wanted to knock their heads together and tell them not to be ridiculous. He himself had not had the pleasure of making Miss Hardwick’s acquaintance but was absolutely sure that she wasn’t worth dying for.

  ‘Back to back, gentlemen,’ he said, when he could no longer avoid carrying out his duties as second, ‘make your paces, turn and fire.’

  Ezra’s heart was in his mouth as he watched his friend’s confident stride. Henry was much more than a mere friend to Ezra and he didn’t know how he would manage without him. They had been inseparable since their childhood days when they caused havoc on the Wickham estate, playing tricks on gardeners and keepers alike, falling from trees and breaking bones in tumbles from ponies.