Duke 0f Chance (Regency Stories Book 2) Read online

  “You are right. Thank you.”

  “Of course,” Jenny said. “I regret having to leave so early, but I must return or the Baron will become grumpy, as he oftentimes does.”

  Hannah reached over and picked up the letter she had just finished. “Would you deliver this to the Duke for me on your way?” she asked as she folded the paper and sealed it with a bit of wax.

  “His estate is on my way,” Jenny said, taking the letter and placing it in the pocket of her dress. “Goodbye, Miss Hannah. I do hope you find love again with someone who truly cares for you and treats you with the respect you deserve.”

  “I’m sure I will,” Hannah replied as the woman hugged her again. “Thank you.”

  “Hannah!” her father bellowed from downstairs.

  “I’d best be going,” Jenny said and was soon gone.

  Hannah walked downstairs and found her father waiting for her in his office, pacing before the fireplace, his hands clasped behind his back. He was most certainly angry; this was his tendency when his anger was even greater than usual. Her mother sat on a nearby couch.

  “Father, you called for me?” Shouted was more like it, but she was not about to say so aloud to a man in such a fury.

  “There you are,” he snapped. “Sit.”

  She did as he asked and smoothed her dress to keep herself from wringing her hands.

  “Your mother has informed me that you have ended your courtship with the Duke?”

  “Yes, Father.”

  “And you did this for what reason?” His voice had not decreased in volume since he had called for her while she was still upstairs, or at least it did not seem to have.

  Hannah glanced at her mother. She had not told her mother why she had ended the courtship and gave no reason when her mother pressed her for one. To tell them she had made a wager with the man would humiliate her no end. Not to mention the hurt it would cause her mother.

  “He…that is, I do not care for him,” she replied. Her heart thudded as her father spun around and scrunched his brow as if in pain.

  “You do not care for him?” he screeched. “That is no reason to end such a lucrative relationship!”

  “Ezra,” her mother said in that soothing tone that usually helped the man calm down, “I believe her reason is quite pertinent.”

  Her father glared at her mother. “Quiet!” he bellowed.

  Hannah sat back into the cushions. Her father had never raised his voice to her mother in such a way, no matter how angry he was.

  He rounded on her. “You will reach out to him and apologize. If you are fortunate enough, he will accept your apology and pick up his courtship of you.”

  Hannah shook her head, the tears welling up once more. “No, Father, I cannot. You do not seem to understand…”

  “No! It is you who does not see!” His face, from the tip of his chin to the tip of his ears, was a beet red. “There is no more home for you here!”

  “Last night…” Hannah tried to explain.

  “Failed. Like everything else I have attempted. We cannot keep you here.” He no longer shouted, but rather had a defeated look on his face.

  Hannah glanced at her mother, who nodded to affirm her father’s words. Yet, Hannah could not give the man what he asked for.

  He snorted. “So, you will not do as I ask?” he said as he appeared to read her thoughts on her face. She could never lie to him, and now was no different.

  “No, Father,” she whispered. “I will not.”

  “Well, there you have it,” he said as he turned his back to her once more. “We no longer have the funds to keep you here any longer. However, I will not see you suffer, for the failing is mine. I will find a suitor for you, and you will have no choice in the matter.”

  Hannah stood, fear coursing through her. “Father, I cannot marry a man I do not love!”

  “You will have to,” he said, and when he turned to face her, the sadness his face held made the tears erupt once more. “I’m sorry, my dear, for I have brought shame to us all. There is nothing more I can do but find a place for you where you will not suffer when we are forced to sell.”

  Hannah wanted to tell him that he had done no wrong, but before she could say anything, he spoke again.

  “Leave. Your mother and I have much we must discuss.”

  Feeling ill, Hannah left the office and returned to her bedroom. Though it was not even ten in the morning, exhaustion plagued her. All the things that she thought would work out had turned to ruin. The relationship she had with the Duke was gone, and her family home was nearly gone. And now, she would have to marry a man she did not love, a stranger, and Hannah feared her troubles were only just beginning.

  ***

  He was known as the Duke of Chance, but Joseph thought of himself the Duke of Fools. He had been foolish in not telling Hannah the truth of his coin trick and even more so for not telling her how he felt, for he had gone beyond simply caring for her.

  The fireplace in his office crackled, a feeble attempt to warm the ice cold of his body, a glass of port in one hand and the letter from Hannah, delivered four days ago, in the other. He had called over to her house and spoke to Hannah's mother. Though he pleaded, the woman assured him that Hannah did not feel well and confirmed his suspicion that she did not wish to speak to him.

  If it had been even two months earlier, he would have gone into a fit of rage, demanding that the woman drag the girl from her bed, wondering how anyone could defy the request of a duke. Instead, he gave a disappointed nod, wished the woman well, and returned home. My, how he had changed.

  Taking a sip of his port, he read over the letter once more, the words haunting him. He had fallen in love with Hannah, and knowing he had hurt her and to what extent caused him more heartache than he ever thought possible. He sighed as he pulled himself up from the chair and walked to the window. She had told him he was a good man, and for a while, he had started to believe it. Now, however, his actions—his cruelty toward her at the beginning of their courtship, how he treated those who needed his mercy just to name two—did not show it.

  His sins were many, all done with the toss of a coin, the recipient believing they had a chance. How many men and women had he crushed through deceit? Too many, the worst being the woman he loved.

  “My son does not eat or leave his office,” his mother said as she entered the room and closed the door behind her.

  “Your son is a fool,” he said, then took the last drink of his port, his fourth of the evening. “He believed he could have whatever he wanted, and when he had it, he lost it.”

  His mother came to stand beside him and took the glass from him. “You are much too hard on yourself,” she said. “And for no good reason. That woman is undeserving of your affection.”

  He turned to his mother. “Undeserving?” he demanded. “She was more than deserving of decency and respect. You do realize she was the object of a wager?”

  She chucked. “Oh, I do realize that,” she said, returning the glass to him, refilled. “You have told me three times now and I have not forgotten.”

  “And that does not bother you?” he asked, unbelieving that this woman could be so callus over what had happened. “Your son, a duke, uses a coin to bet on a woman as though she were livestock!”

  His mother sighed. “You are not the first man to do such a thing, nor will you be the last. Why does this upset you so?”

  “Because it is not right.”

  The woman shook her head. “You went to speak to her, correct?” He gave a nod. “And she refused to hear your apology, though I cannot understand why you would do such a thing. Dukes never apologize for their actions; it’s simply not called for.” She raised her hand to stop him from speaking. “That does not matter now. What does matter is that she refuses to listen.”

  He snorted. “I do not blame her. She is hurt, and rightfully so.” He could still see the tears burn rivers down her cheeks, and that, in turn, burned his heart. He could imagine her
crying in her bed, her heart broken, which caused his stomach to flip with guilt. Taking a large drink of the port, his head spun and his stomach did not improve.

  “All women are hurt at least once in their lives,” his mother said. “Do you not think your father hurt me at times?”

  He looked up at her, shocked.

  “What he spoke was the truth. I will not go into details, for they do not matter now. However, I did listen to him. And now you will listen to me.”

  He could not stop the heavy sigh. “What do you wish to tell me?” If he did not allow her to speak, she would hound him until he had no choice but to listen.

  “I will not see you suffer anymore,” she said. A command. “You must realize that the woman will never speak to you again.”

  “I do, but that does not take away the pain.”

  “Of course it does not. However, there is something that will.”

  He looked at her doubtfully. “And what is that?”

  “You will find a woman who will.”

  He snorted. “Mother, I have no desire to find someone else, certainly not now.” He took a generous drink of port and set the glass on the table. He had consumed enough alcohol for one night. “I still care for her.”

  His mother shook her head and walked over to the fireplace. “There is a woman who cares for you deeply. Who is pained by what she sees.”

  “Who?”

  “Margaret.”

  He laughed. “Margaret is a friend and nothing more.”

  His mother turned so quickly, he was afraid her skirts would rise and catch fire from the nearby flames. “You fool!” she spat. “You have disgraced your father’s name enough. A woman of title and wealth longs for you, and yet you sulk like a child for a woman of the Gentry who cares not.”

  Joseph tried to find the words to rebuke her, but they escaped him.

  She sniffed at him. “Very well. Stay here and wither. Years from now, when you are alone and without an heir, Margaret will be married and you will live to regret that you lost her.” With those words, his mother stormed off, slamming the door behind her.

  Joseph picked up his glass and stared into the swirling liquid. Nothing his mother said would make him change his mind. Yet, he still had no idea what he would do.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Though the sun was out, Hannah did not feel its warmth. In fact, she felt nothing, for a numbness had settled throughout her body. It had been over a week since the party, and each day she grew frustrated. The truth was, her heart was broken, and yet she could not help but to think of Joseph, the stories they shared, their laughs, and what she had thought was a mutual acceptance of love.

  He had called several days earlier, and although it was not typical of her, for was not one to typically defy her father, she refused to speak to Joseph. Now, however, she regretted that decision, for in doing so, she removed that single opportunity to see him one last time.

  She came to a stop in front of a rose bush and looked at the delicate red petals of the flowers. They had been so beautiful in the past, but now weeds grew in the beds because no one was there to tend them. Her father had already announced their property was available to purchase, so soon someone else would take on the task of caring for the roses. Perhaps it would be a fine lady, and Hannah hoped the woman had better fortune in love than she.

  “Hannah,” her mother said as she came walking toward her, “we must talk.” Her mother had an urgency to her tone as she slipped her arm through Hannah’s, and soon the two were walking.

  “Mother?” Hannah asked. She was not sure she could take another surprise. “You look worried. What is it?”

  “Your father has found someone for you, a suitor,” the woman said, though the woman’s words held no joy. “He will arrive in three days in order to meet you.”

  Fear and worry went through Hannah at the same time, and her body trembled. “Who…who is it? Is he someone with whom I am already acquainted?”

  Her mother nodded. “It is Lord Byron Mantle.”

  Hannah stopped and stared at her mother to see if she wore any signs that she was merely teasing her; however, the woman had never looked more serious. “Oh, Mother!” she said, shaking her head, “he is nearly fifty years of age!”

  “I realize this,” her mother said. “It’s not what you want nor what we desire, but it is what is needed.”

  “I don’t…” She sighed. Arguing would get her nowhere. “He means to marry me?”

  “He does. You will find security with him, much more than we can provide for you.”

  “I do not care about that,” Hannah said, wiping a tear from her cheek. “I only want love. How can I love a man I barely know? A man who is old enough to be my father!”

  Her mother placed her fingers under Hannah’s chin. “You will have to learn to love him…in time. I told you once that we must keep our joy, do you remember?”

  Hannah nodded.

  “That is the one thing that cannot be taken away unless we allow it. You are heartbroken over the Duke, I understand that. However, it is time to move on from what cannot be.”

  It was difficult to accept her mother’s words, and yet, she knew them as true. Then another thought came to her. Though she had scorned the Duke, perhaps he would agree to court her again. If she were to marry someone, and although he had hurt her terribly, she would rather marry him that Lord Mantle.

  “I will speak with Joseph again,” Hannah said, her decision made. “The courtship will resume and then he might ask for my hand.”

  Her mother shook her head. “When I was in town this morning, I spoke with the Dowager Duchess.”

  “Oh?” Hannah said, her voice choking.

  “His Grace has begun to court Miss Treesing, and the Duchess believes they will soon marry.”

  Hannah reached out to grasp her mother’s arm with her free hand to steady herself. The betrayal she felt was monumental. “She told me…she was my friend. How can she do this?”

  “I do not know,” her mother said as she embraced Hannah. “I do not understand that any better than I understand why you rejected seeing him when he came to call.”

  “That was because I thought…” Tears escaped her eyes. “It does not matter. I had suspected his affections for her and he told me a lie.” She shook her head in wonderment. “So many lies.”

  “I’m sorry,” her mother said with a sigh. “Come. We must select a dress for when Lord Mantle comes to call.”

  Hannah could only nod as she allowed her mother to guide her back to the house. Both Joseph and Miss Treesing had betrayed her—a pawn in their games. How could she have not seen the truth? That was the thorn in all this; she chose not to take notice of the signs that most certainly had been there. Therefore, she had no one to blame but herself for the devastation that was now her life.

  ***

  Another night had passed, and Joseph found the comfort of drink doing little to ease his pain. Outside the sky lit up with lightning, rain pelting against the window. Fitting weather for his mood. Though his mother had urged him to forget about Hannah, he could not. He loved her and needed to see her. But how does one see a woman who refuses to be seen? He took a drink of his wine as the door to his office opened and Margaret entered the room.

  “I worry about you,” she said, walking toward him.

  She looked resplendent in a green dress and her hair tied back with a ribbon, a few long strands falling over her shoulder. It was not that Joseph admired her more than a friend would, however. She could not replace Hannah.

  “I’m fine,” he said and went to take another drink. She reached out, took the glass from his hand, and set it on the desk. “What are you doing?”

  “Saving a friend from destruction,” she said firmly. Then she brought her hand to his face. “I care too much to allow you to suffer.”

  “You are kind,” he said. This did not stop her from moving closer to him, but he ignored her closeness. “I
have been thinking about Hannah and what I did wrong. Tomorrow I will make another attempt to see her.”

  Margaret dropped her hand and stared at him as if in shock.

  “You do not agree?” he asked.

  “No.” The single word came as a whisper. “I thought your mother told you.”

  Joseph sat up straighter in the chair. “Told me what?”

  “Lord Mantle has asked for her hand in marriage and she readily accepted.”

  “That cannot be,” he said, pushing her away and standing.

  She returned to his side as quickly as he had pushed her away. “It is true. Her father is selling his property and they are to move. Her mother said Miss Newmont has never been happier.”

  Disbelief coursed through him. “But I cared for her, and she for me. This makes no sense.”

  “It never does,” Margaret said as she placed a hand on his chest. “She does not care for you, Your Grace. She is an evil woman who led you to believe what was not true.”

  He shook his head. He could not believe it. He would not.

  Margaret stepped in closer. “But I care for you,” she said in a husky voice. “I will never hurt you.”

  “We are but friends,” he said, confused by her words. “I do not love you.”

  “You will in time.” She reached up and began to lower the fabric of her dress down off her shoulders.

  Shock coursed through Joseph and he took a step back. “No! You must stop this.” He grabbed her hands and pulled the dress back over her shoulders.

  “Why?” she demanded, her hands on her hips and her lower lip pouting. “I have shown you that I care! Yet you still chase after that woman like a hunter chases a fox!”

  “Because I care for her in the way a man cares for a woman,” he said, ignoring the redness that crept into her cheeks. Angry red. “If you are my friend, you will stop this nonsense at once.”

  “You are a fool!” she spat. “I’m glad I told her to listen in on you and Albert that night at the party. Now your heart is broken like mine!” She stopped as if just realizing what she had said, her hand over her mouth in shock.