Charming the Runaway Duke: A Sweet Regency Romance Read online

  Charming the Runaway Duke

  Maggie Dallen

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Epilogue

  Chapter 1

  Lady Amelia uttered the final words of the last scene and shut the book with a happy sigh. “How romantic.”

  Her cousin who’d been listening to her read aloud from her perch on the settee looked up from her needlepoint. “How ridiculous, you mean.”

  Amelia grinned at the beautiful blonde across from her. Though they were cousins, Amelia was still quite awed by her older relation, with her striking beauty and her elegant poise. Not so awed, however, that she was ready to cede this point. Sitting up straight, she held the book facing out as if for proof. “It is Shakespeare.”

  Madeline shrugged. “And still silly. Why would anyone pretend to be someone they are not? It makes no sense at all.” Her clear brow furrowed in thought. “Was everyone so very convinced that she was a man just because she pinned her locks up in a cap?”

  Amelia shrugged. “Perhaps they were simpletons back then, or…” She let the book fall into her lap with a thud. “Perhaps you are missing the point altogether.”

  “And what point is that?” Before Amelia could answer, Madeline pounced on one of the more famous quotes. “Love is merely a madness? Now that, I grant you, makes sense.”

  Amelia laughed. “Must you be so pragmatic all the time?”

  Madeline gave a sidelong look and a mischievous smile. “Would you prefer I were only sensible on Mondays?”

  Amelia tossed a cushion at her cousin, who deflected it handily. “You know what I mean. ‘Tis Christmastide, cousin. A time of miracles. Surely you could put your sensible mindset on hold for just this little while.”

  Madeline gave her a skeptical shrug. “I shall try.”

  Amelia burst out of her chair and lunged toward Madeline, narrowly avoiding the sharp end of a needle as she hugged her tight. “Oh Maddie, I am so glad you are here with me. Everything will be different once I am wed, but for now…”

  Madeline squeezed her tight, not needing for her to finish that sentiment aloud. For the best, really, since Amelia was having difficulties staunching her tears. It was not that Amelia did not wish to marry. Not really. It was just that she was to wed a man she had never met. A man who’d done nothing but travel the continent and the globe for the last decade since he’d inherited the dukedom. A man who had no interest whatsoever in meeting his intended bride.

  “There, there,” Madeline said, patting her back as she would a child. “We still have plenty of time before the journey.”

  Amelia nodded with a valiant sniff. Though she lived with her second cousin and her great aunt, her uncle was her legal guardian, and the successor to her father’s title. It seemed he had grown weary of waiting for the errant duke to come and claim his bride, and had devised a plan that involved shipping her off to meet him.

  Rather like a forgotten parcel.

  She forced a smile for Madeline’s sake and her own. No good ever came of wallowing. “They say Italy is quite lovely in the spring.”

  Madeline returned her smile. “Indeed they do.”

  Italy was where the duke was last said to be. However, by the time spring came around, who knew where she would be off to. She twisted her hands in her lap to staunch another wave of tears.

  Amelia’s life here in London might not be as diverting as she’d have liked—unlike other girls her age, she’d never been allowed to dream of flirtations or romance or even truly enjoy a waltz with a gentleman who made her heart race in time with the music. As a young lady who’d been betrothed since birth, everyone knew she was not eligible for marriage. Most of all, she knew it, so she’d never tortured herself by entertaining false hopes or silly infatuations.

  When she came of age, she attended the balls and the soirees. She was considered quite the belle of the ball. Then another year passed, and another, and another... Over the years, Amelia went from envied duchess-to-be to the pitied girl who was more often than not the subject of gossip and mockery.

  To be eligible and unwanted was a sorry state, but to be promised and unclaimed was merely laughable. And so the years passed, with Amelia an active participant in society’s outings, but unable to hope for more

  Amelia might as well have been on the shelf.

  And yet, despite Amelia’s rather mundane life in London, it was her life. Maddie had been her constant companion since they were youngsters, and had become as close as sisters since Maddie had come to live with Amelia three years ago after her father’s death. The thought of darting about the world with a near stranger without her dearest friend…

  She let out a shuddery sigh that had Madeline clutching her tightly for a heartbeat before shoving her away to meet her gaze head-on. “You will have a wonderful life with your duke,” she said.

  “You do not know that.” Amelia had heard this speech often, from Madeline and her great aunt. They meant well, of course, but at this particular moment, content in the warmth of her family home, surrounded by her family and closest friend…those words held little significance. She shook her head as she repeated it, a hint of desperation in her tone. “You cannot know that, because you do not know him.”

  Him. The duke. The man she’d heard mentioned countless times in her life but had yet to meet. He’d become a sort of phantom in her life, haunting her by dashing her dreams, taunting her with his absence and neglect.

  “Yes, but I know you,” Maddie said kindly, her eyes warm with emotion. “You can make the best of any situation, and you can enchant any man, woman, or child with a simple smile.”

  Amelia gave a grudging laugh. It was impossible to be melancholy when her serious cousin teased her. Not many were privy to Madeline’s lighthearted side but, when she chose to share it, Amelia reveled in it.

  “Perhaps you are right,” she said.

  Madeline arched her brows. “I am always right.”

  “Yes, yes. You are a paragon of intellect,” Amelia teased. “I suppose I am rather good at making the best of any situation, and it is not as though becoming a duchess is a true hardship, now is it?”

  “Of course not. You shall want for nothing,” Madeline said, patting her hand where it lay on her lap.

  The thought that had been nagging at her for weeks—nay, months—took hold once more and did away with any relief she’d found in Madeline’s laughter. “But what if he does not like me?”

  “Impossible,” Madeline said swiftly.

  Amelia resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Madeline, like her now-deceased mother and father, was prone to only seeing the best in Amelia. But no one was perfect, and not every arranged marriage was a happy one, and—

  She let out a huff of laughter at her own useless train of thought. No amount of stewing over the issue would solve the problem. She would never know how she and the duke would get along unless she got to know him. Spent some time with him.

  And time seemed to be the one thing he was unwilling to give her.

  She looked down at the pretty gloves on her hands, so delicate, so perfect. He had sent these on her birthday, along with a stunning necklace that was nearly burdensome to wear it was so laden with gems.

  Madeline’s hand covered hers again so she was now staring down at both their hands, fingers interlaced. “What would put your mind at ease, cousin?”


  Amelia very nearly wept at the uncharacteristic tenderness in Madeline’s voice. Her cousin was kind, but rarely soft. The sound of that sympathy made tears sting the back of her eyes.

  There were only months left before she was sent off to Italy—the latest place her nomadic duke had claimed home. But until she was handed over to her future husband, she was here. Now. And she intended to enjoy every moment. She blinked away the wetness in her eyes and gave her cousin a wide smile. “I will tell you what would make me feel better.”

  Madeline’s brows arched in surprise. “What is it?”

  Amelia twined her arm through Madeline’s. “You shall come with me to Italy—” Madeline opened her mouth to protest but Amelia continued undeterred. “And you shall pretend to be me.”

  Madeline laughed.

  “And I, of course, shall be you,” she said, a smile tugging at her lips as her cousin’s laughter filled the air. “It would be a farce befitting Shakespeare.”

  “You are daft,” Madeline said.

  Amelia lifted a shoulder. “I rather like the idea. That way I could get to know him without him knowing who precisely I am.”

  “Mmm,” Madeline murmured, still smiling. “I do not see how anything could go wrong with that well-laid plan.”

  Amelia grinned at Madeline’s playful tone. “No, indeed, unless…” She feigned a pout. “Of course it would never work for he would surely fall in love with you, my fair cousin. And what a mess we would be in then.”

  “Oh indeed,” Madeline looked to the heavens as if the idea were so very silly, but Amelia knew the truth. If Madeline had the dowry and connections that Amelia had, she would be the belle of every ball and not merely Amelia’s companion. But, as luck would have it, Madeline had inherited all of the beauty and none of the fortune.

  She denied it, of course, but Amelia hardly needed a looking glass to see the differences between them. Amelia was thought to be very pretty, in a wholly unremarkable way. With dark blonde hair and a pleasing face, she had no complaints about her visage. It was only when sitting next to Madeline that she felt rather plain. But then, everyone must feel that way because Madeline had the sort of arresting white-blonde hair, the high cheekbones, the perfect figure, and the pristine beauty that launched ships and inspired poetry.

  Once upon a time, Amelia shared the same white-blonde hair and slim build. But…then she’d grown up. Now she was pretty, if a bit plump, and wholesome, if not striking.

  “No, you are right,” Amelia said with a sigh. “Perhaps it is for the best that I go alone. Maybe then I shall stand a chance of charming my own husband.”

  Madeline smacked her arm with her free hand. “You are ridiculous, you know that, do you not?”

  “I do know it.” Amelia squeezed Madeline’s hand. “But that is why you love me.”

  Chapter 2

  The Earl of Tolston made no attempt to disguise his displeasure at being dragged along on this ridiculous adventure. “Are you certain this is wise?”

  His tone was dry, but Royce Landon, The Duke of Harlow knew precisely how unwise his friend believed this trip to be. Indeed, Alec did not wait for a response before he lowered his dark brows, his mouth twisting with scorn. “You ought to have sent word.”

  Royce gave his friend a careless grin. “And where would be the fun in that?”

  Alec’s eyes narrowed beneath the thick black lock that had fallen into his eyes during their long journey from the continent. “You believe surprising your unknown fiancée and her family during Christmastide, unexpected and unannounced, will be fun?”

  “Lady Amelia is not unknown,” he answered with a shrug. “You make it sound as if she were some stranger.”

  “Then you have met her?” Alec eyed him with disbelief. They’d been friends for most of their lives and he knew most, if not all, of Royce’s secrets.

  “Not officially,” Royce admitted. “But I do recall seeing her once, when we were children.” His father had pointed her out, the girl who was to grow up to be his wife. All he remembered of her was her hair. White blonde little ringlets. She’d been younger than him and his family had not seen the need for him to become acquainted with the girl who was to be his wife. In his family, marriage and family were not personal. They were a duty. One to be endured…rather like torture.

  “Not officially,” Alec repeated, his tone dripping with disdain. He’d never tried to hide his displeasure over the fact that Royce had not taken more of an interest in his bride-to-be these past few years. But what Alec could not seem to understand was that Royce was really doing her a favor. Once they were wed, she would be forced into a whole new life. As would he. He’d seen enough of his parents’ marriage and that of his friends who were now married off with little children underfoot to know that such a life was hardly a dream come true. It was a life of compromise and resentment, and for what? Duty.

  Always duty.

  He was used to Alec’s disapproval when it came to this particular topic. Not that Alec was pushing for him to marry—his old friend was hardly a proponent for the institution of marriage. He merely believed that Royce was putting off the inevitable with his future bride. And there he had a point.

  “You cannot merely show up on the doorstep of a lady you have never met,” Alec said.

  “She is not any lady.” Royce gave a haughty sniff. “Lady Amelia is the only child of the now-deceased Earl of Carlo, and she is to be my wife.”

  The bold pronouncement would have been a bit more meaningful if he had not been imbibing liquor to keep warm for the better part of the day. As it were, his words lacked clarity and Alec’s answering laugh was a bit too hearty. “We will not be welcome,” Alec said.

  “Nonsense. I am the prodigal son-in-law, the beloved betrothed, the gracious….grace.” The hand he’d been waving fell along with his smile. “That does not make sense, does it?”

  “No,” Alec agreed. “But then, little of this adventure north to London is based on reason.”

  “Quite right.” Royce, who was rather proud of his ability to defy convention at every turn, puffed his chest out with pride.

  “That was not intended as a compliment.”

  Royce shrugged. “I shall still take it as one.”

  “Fair enough. But I do think we should at least wait until the morning.” Alec eyed his friend. “You not only reek of spirits, but your attire has seen better days.”

  Royce scrubbed a hand over the bristles that roughened his jaw, knowing without looking that his short, light brown hair was no doubt sticking out in every direction after days of constant travel and little opportunities to freshen his appearance. “I suppose you are right.”

  He sank back into his seat, ready to doze off once again, but his dreadful brain would not let him. Despite his best efforts to dull his senses, his mind was still busy wondering, pondering…imagining.

  And all thoughts led to one thing. One person, really.

  His wife.

  Or rather, the woman who would be his wife.

  As usual, dread swept through him swift and fierce, and left his gut twisted and his chest burning as though his lungs were on fire. He drew a deep breath with his eyes still closed, not wishing to see Alec’s concern or the curiosity that was sure to be in his expression no matter how hard he tried to hide it.

  It was ridiculous to fear one’s own betrothed. Not that he feared the girl herself, not really. It was more the responsibilities that came with a wife. With a family. With children. He braced himself against a shudder of horror.

  Children were all fine and good when they belonged to…well, anyone else. But when they were his responsibility? Sweet mercy, was this carriage suddenly too small? It was definitely too warm. Tugging at his cravat, he ignored his friend’s searching look. Alec might have been his oldest friend, but he never had understood Royce’s aversion to wives, or children, or any form of responsibility, actually.

  But then again, Alec had not been raised by Royce’s father. The old man had bee
n dead for seven years now, and his mother gone even longer—but they’d left an indelible impression. One that made familial responsibility seem as appealing as the gallows.

  The moment Royce took Lady Amelia as his bride, he would be drowning in obligations. He shifted in his seat as he gave his head a bracing shake. Now was not the time for moping. He may have done his best to shirk his responsibilities—or at least, delegate liberally—however, he was not one to renege on a commitment, even if the deal had been struck by his father.

  It was hardly Lady Amelia’s fault that she’d been promised to him; and the time had come to gather what was his.

  Forever.

  He rubbed his chest. Surely he was coming down with some sort of ailment. This tightness could not be healthy.

  “So, we are really doing this then?” Alec asked, peering out the window as they passed the stately townhouses of Mayfair.

  Royce snorted in amusement at his friend’s expense. “Of course not, do not be daft. I would never arrive unannounced and intoxicated for my first true meeting with my bride-to-be.”

  Alec’s posture relaxed slightly, though his expression said he was not nearly as amused as Royce.

  “We shall visit the lovely Lady Amelia tomorrow,” he said.

  Alec arched a brow. “I assume her family will know you are coming?”

  Royce arched his brows as well, trying and likely failing to match his friend’s haughty demeanor. No one did haughty superiority as well as the Earl of Tolston. “No,” Royce said. “They know you are coming.”

  “Me?” Alec said. “Why me?”

  Royce widened his eyes. “You would not want them to be surprised by your arrival, now would you?”

  Alec frowned. “I meant, what about you? Should they not know that Lady Amelia’s betrothed has arrived in town?”

  Royce grinned as he slid back in his seat and closed his eyes. “Now where would be the fun in that?”