The Duke's Defiant Debutante Read online

  Contents

  Copyright

  Prologue

  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

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Epilogue

  Also by Gemma Blackwood

  Copyright

  Copyright © 2018 by Gemma Blackwood.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, businesses, places, events and incidents are products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  I love hearing from my readers! If you have any questions, comments, or just want to get in touch, please email me at [email protected].

  Alternatively, you can find me on facebook at facebook.com/gemmablackwoodauthor.

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  Prologue

  To Angelica's astonishment, the Duke stepped forwards and seized her hand.

  She was no expert, but she was absolutely certain that morning calls did not typically involve physical contact of any kind.

  If only his eyes hadn't been so dratted green, she would have jerked her hand away immediately. As it was, she was near-mesmerised, and far too shocked to move.

  "Miss Stirling," said the Duke, "I have come to ask you for the honour of your hand in marriage."

  "My what?"

  He raised an eyebrow. "I do not see that I left anything unclear, Miss Stirling. I wish to take you as my wife."

  Angelica snatched her hand back and rubbed it with the other as if he'd stung her. "Absolutely not!"

  Now both of the Duke's black eyebrows were soaring up into his forehead. "Excuse me, Miss Stirling, you appear to be confused. I have just made you an offer of marriage."

  Angelica got to her feet. The nerve of the man! To propose once in such a manner was cheek enough, but three times in a row? It was simply unbearable!

  "You are quite excused, Your Grace. You see, I have just refused you."

  Chapter One

  London, 1819

  "Angelica Stirling! You must be the only girl in London who is more interested in reading than in her own Coming Out ball," sighed her sister, Lily, who was lying in an attitude of wistful languor on the chaise longue in Angelica's room. "Mama will be here any minute, and she will expect you to be ready."

  Angelica made a great show of slamming shut the book she had been reading aloud, but took care to mark her page with a finger. "Lily! I haven't even got to the best part! Have you no concern for our heroine at all? We can't leave her in the clutches of the evil Viscount, we simply can't!"

  "You ought to be more concerned with any Viscounts you might encounter this evening," smiled Lily. Angelica sighed and flung a hand up to her forehead.

  "Why an earth should I be at all bothered about the silly ball when I won't have you there to laugh at the gentlemen with me?"

  A pained expression crossed Lily's face. Angelica immediately regretted her words. "Oh, Lily, I know it's not your fault. I know you would be with me if you could. I promise you, I will be thinking of you every moment. Every time a gentleman asks me to dance, I will be wondering what clever remark you would make to set me off in fits of laughter. I will not enjoy myself at all knowing that you cannot be at my side."

  Lily stretched out a hand towards Angelica. Forgetting her book, Angelica rolled off the bed and ran to clasp it.

  "That is not what I want at all, and you know it," said Lily sternly. "You must and will enjoy yourself at your first ball. I would be mortified to think that your thoughts were the slightest bit occupied with me. This is your night, Angelica, your special night, and my health – or lack of it – should not disturb you for a moment."

  "I will do my best, Lily. But it is very hard to know that I must make my entrance into society without the help of my beloved big sister."

  "You will do just fine without me," Lily reassured her. "I have never had your self-confidence. Even when my health was better, I would often find myself standing alone in a ballroom, with no idea of who to speak to or what to say."

  "That is one problem which I will certainly never suffer from," laughed Angelica. "If Mama is right – and, as you know, she is almost always right – my difficulty is rather that I usually have too much to say."

  "And no compunction at all about who you say it to," said Lily, joining in her laughter. Angelica watched uneasily as the laughter turned into a fit of wheezing.

  "Kitty!" she called, summoning her lady's maid, "please fetch my sister's infusion."

  "I am perfectly fine," said Lily weakly, falling back onto the cushions again. "Now, Angelica, please do as I say and let Kitty dress you. I cannot have my little sister going out into society looking anything less than perfect – and perfect always takes time."

  "In my case, much more time than usual, I'm afraid," said Angelica.

  "Very good, Miss," said Kitty, with a frazzled expression that belied her polite tone. "If I may, I really do agree with Miss Lily. We have a lot to do and very little time now to do it in."

  "Do you really suppose you will be able to turn me into a fine society lady?" asked Angelica curiously. She gazed into the mirror, examining the unladylike girl who looked back at her with some trepidation. Her blonde hair was tousled, and, rather than hanging in delicate curls, most of it was sticking up at the front of her forehead where she had absentmindedly run her fingers through it while reading. She was not wearing gloves, and her fingertips were stained green by the flowers she had picked in the garden for Lily that morning. She was still wearing her day dress, which had originally been a pristine white, suitable for a debutante. It now sported brown knees from kneeling down in the garden and a streak of blue down the skirt from one of her hapless adventures with watercolours.

  Altogether, she was the very opposite of the fine women she had seen gliding down the paths in Hyde Park or sitting quietly at the opera.

  "Well, Miss, I never claimed to be able to work miracles," sniffed Kitty. Angelica let out a snort of unladylike laughter.

  "We had better get started, then."

  Kitty brought out Angelica's ballgown from the wardrobe. Angelica's mother had originally suggested a range of lovely, pastel colours for this, the first ball of Angelica's first London season. Angelica had refused them all outright. She had chosen a beautiful gown of woodland green, embroidered with tiny gold flowers. The sleeves were gold silk, and a large bow of the same colour adorned the bodice. The bow had been Angelica's one concession to
her mother's requests.

  It was a lovely dress, there was no doubt about it, but Angelica couldn't help but feel that it had been made for somebody else – even though she had spent hours standing very still and praying that she wouldn't be pricked by a dressmaker's pin as it was constructed around her.

  No one could claim that Mr and Mrs Stirling would ever settle for anything but the absolute best for their two daughters. For Angelica's Come Out, they had gone to the same dressmaker who had designed a dream of rose pink satin for Lily's first ball. Angelica still remembered how beautiful her sister had looked that night, and how much she had envied her and wanted to join in the fun. She had longed for the day she would be able to join her sister so much that she felt it as a physical ache in her chest.

  Now that day had come, and Lily would not be with her. Nothing had ever seemed less fair. Angelica could barely find it in herself to look forward to the ball at all.

  Kitty refused to let Angelica look into the mirror again as she stepped into the beautiful dress and let herself be buttoned in. Once Kitty was satisfied, Angelica sat at her dressing table, still forbidden from looking into the mirror, while Kitty made sense of her tumbling hair.

  Lily watched them from the chaise longue, as pale as she always was these days, and, to her credit, not a flicker of jealousy was visible in her lovely face. Angelica tried to be as brave as Lily. If she could bear being excluded from the ball, Angelica would not make any more fuss over it.

  Kitty had hardly started pinning up Angelica's hair when, just as Lily had predicted, Mrs Stirling made her sweeping entrance. Angelica's mother was one of the most elegant women in London, or so her daughters firmly believed. She was tall and dignified, with hair a shade paler than Angelica's own, eyes a touch brighter, and, above all, an air of elegance and refinement which Angelica could never hope to match.

  Mrs Stirling was wearing a dress of finest dark blue satin, and a turban from which rose a glimmering peacock feather. Angelica found her eyes ever drawn back to the shimmering colours of this feather as it bobbed up and down on top of her mother's head, even as she did her best to pay attention to what she was being told. Even though she was mostly being told off.

  "Angelica, really! Do you have any idea what time it is? Your guests will be arriving any moment. What have you been doing up here all this time?" Mrs Stirling's eyes fell on the book which still lay on the bed. "I might have known! Reading, again! Honestly, Angelica, it is all very well and good to have a hobby, but it is too much when it starts to get in the way of your obligations. Only imagine how embarrassed your father and I will be if a Duke or an Earl should ask to be introduced to you, only to discover that you have not even bothered to make an appearance at your own Coming Out ball."

  "I couldn't care less what a stuffy old Earl would think," said Angelica. "I would much rather sit here and finish reading my book to Lily than go to the ball, anyway."

  Mrs Stirling placed a loving hand under Angelica's chin and tilted it upwards, eliciting a squeak of annoyance from Kitty, who had dropped the blonde curl she was styling.

  "That is another thing," sighed Mrs Stirling. "Angelica, I fear you will never learn to stop speaking your mind. It is not so important here, with your family. We love you and will not censure you for your opinions. The ton is quite a different matter. Remember that your chief goal this evening – and all the evenings which will follow – is to attract the right sort of husband. Do you really think that the right sort of husband will want to hear you spouting off your thoughts about every subject under the sun?"

  "If he does not, then he is not the right husband for me," said Angelica stoutly. Her mother laughed.

  "Well said! Though I fear you are making things more difficult for yourself than they need to be." She looked fondly from Angelica to Lily. "But when did my beautiful girls make things easy on themselves, after all?"

  "I was just thinking that very same thing, Mama," said Lily, and, to Angelica's amazement, she rose unsteadily to her feet. "And on that note, I cannot help but feel that I am more than well enough this evening to attend Angelica's ball."

  "Oh, Lily! Do you really mean it?" asked Angelica, leaping to her feet and running to embrace her sister. Hairpins went flying all over the floor as she knocked the box from her dressing table.

  "Be careful, Miss Angelica!" gasped Kitty.

  "Oh, Kitty, I am so sorry. Here, let me help you pick them up. And you have been doing such a good job on my hair – it hardly feels knotted at all."

  "Don't worry about the hairpins, Miss," smiled Kitty, appeased. "I had just finished with your hair."

  Angelica clapped her hands. "May I look in the mirror?"

  "I think you will be pleased by what you see," said Lily, turning the full-length mirror towards her.

  Angelica froze in astonishment. She had been expecting to see the same old scraggle-headed girl looking back at her. In her place, she discovered an elegant young lady in a beautiful green dress, with hair that glowed in perfect golden curls atop her head, one lock hanging loose and lovely down her slender neck.

  For the first time, Angelica truly understood what it meant to make her entrance into society. She was no longer a silly girl with her head full of flighty ideas. She was now Miss Angelica Stirling: educated, sophisticated, desirable.

  The sophisticated lady in the mirror hugged herself in glee and began bobbing up and down on the balls of her feet. "Kitty, how on earth did you manage it? This really is a miracle!"

  Angelica turned to her mother, to see what she would make of the transformation. Mrs Stirling's attention, however, was fixed on Lily, and a crinkle of worry had creased her otherwise perfect brow.

  "My darling, are you quite sure you're feeling strong enough? You know what happens when you overexert yourself."

  "Oh, I am not planning to dance!" said Lily. "I only want to sit in a corner and watch Angelica charm every eligible gentleman in the room. Mama, I promise you, I feel quite well. I will be careful. Please, say I can join you?"

  "How can I refuse?" sighed Mrs Stirling. "You know your own health better than anybody else, my dear. And, after all, the ball is taking place in our own house. If I cannot bear to let you attend this one, when will you go to another?"

  Angelica took hold of Lily's hand and squeezed it. "You will simply have to host a ball at least once a week, Mama. That way, Lily's social calendar will remain tolerably full."

  "Perhaps when I have a little more help in the organisation and planning, we can host balls more often," said Mrs Stirling sternly. Angelica stood up on tiptoe – it really was not fair that her mother was so tall while she herself remained painfully short – and kissed her mother on the cheek.

  "I know how hard you have worked for tonight, Mama. I will make the most of it. I will make you proud."

  "I have never doubted that," said Mrs Stirling. "And it has not really been any trouble to me to arrange your Coming Out ball. Your father and I want the very best for you, you understand – the absolute best. Now, Angelica, you seem quite ready to me. Come downstairs and prepare to greet your guests. Let's leave Lily to make her own preparations. She will be with us soon enough."

  Angelica had never felt more grown-up and glamorous than she felt walking down the stairs of their London townhouse on her mother's arm. She tried to imitate the graceful steps Mrs Stirling walked with, so soft and dainty that it looked as though she were floating over the ground.

  Now that Lily had promised to make an appearance, Angelica could think of nothing in the world that the evening lacked. She was absolutely determined that her Coming Out ball would fulfil every one of her wildest dreams.

  Chapter Two

  Edward Thorne, Duke of Redhaven, was not in the least bit curious when his butler announced he had a visitor. There was only one man in all of London he had bothered keeping in contact with. He supposed that, technically, Frederick Grey was his friend.

  The Duke of Redhaven was not the sort of man who had friends. It was
a testament to Frederick's persistence that their acquaintance had continued at all in the ten years which Edward had spent away from London. Fortunately – or, Edward might say, regrettably – persistent was only one of the words which could be used to describe the Earl of Lathkill. Handsome was another, or so Edward had been led to believe. Witty might certainly make the list. Charming – Frederick was nothing if not charming., Finally, and most regrettably of all: cheerful. Frederick was exceptionally cheerful. His constitution was as sunny as a summer's day.

  How such an abomination of a man had ever attached himself to Edward to such a degree that they had actually become friends was a mystery Edward would never be able to solve.

  "I say, Thorne, old boy," said Frederick, entering Edward's study and bringing his usual sunburst of energy with him, "it's awfully fine to see you again. I was beginning to think you were some sort of vampire – that you might turn to dust if you ever left that draughty old castle you call home. Now, I see that the rumours are true! You are flesh and blood, after all. I can't tell you how delighted I am to see you."

  "Good to see you, too," Edward muttered, hoping that would suffice as a social pleasantry.

  "It might be traditional to offer me a drink, Thorne," said Frederick cheerfully. He and Edward had known each other since their schooldays at Eton twenty-odd years ago, and he steadfastly refused to use Edward's title, even now that he was Duke. "Got any brandy?"

  "I believe there's some in the drinks cabinet," said Edward. His butler insisted on keeping his cellar stocked with the finest brandy and the most expensive vintages of wine, even though Edward himself rarely drank. "Don't stand on ceremony. Help yourself."

  Frederick poured out two generous servings of Edward's finest brandy and pushed one glass across the table towards him. "A toast! We must have a toast."

  "I can think of nothing worth raising a glass to."

  "Really? I can think of any number of things to celebrate. Your return to London, for one."