Lady Saves the Duke Read online

  Table of Contents

  Excerpt

  Praise for Annabelle Anders

  Lady Saves the Duke

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Epilogue

  A word from the author…

  Read more by Annabelle Anders

  Thank you for purchasing

  Also available from The Wild Rose Press, Inc. and other major retailers

  “For you see, Your Grace, the longer you sit there, the greater the likelihood that I will accept your offer…

  “You are not moving, Your Grace.”

  He reclined and shuffled to cross one leg over the other.

  “Your Grace,” Abigail persisted, “I would not be a good duchess. People would always remember me from my come-out. Your family will not be pleased at all…I am not beautiful. I have no connections. I have nothing to offer you. I am going to count to three, very slowly. You must take your leave while you have the chance, Your Grace, for if you are still here by the time I have finished counting, I warn you that I shall accept your proposal and you will leave here an engaged man. I only have so much self-discipline, you see, and part of me sees you as quite the answer to all of my problems.

  “I am warning you…

  “One…

  “Two…

  “Two and a half…” Oh, lord, he still had not moved.

  Abigail dropped her hands. “Three,” she said.

  He was watching her with something that looked like it might be amusement. He lifted one ducal eyebrow. Before either of them could say anything, Betty entered, carrying a tray with both tea and a plate of sandwiches upon it. She set it down carefully on the table beside Abigail.

  “Thank you, Betty,” Abigail somehow managed. Both she and the duke sat quietly until Betty once again had disappeared. “How do you take your tea, Your Grace? Sugar? Milk?”

  Praise for Annabelle Anders

  “Annabelle Anders writes the sort of heroines I’d like to be best friends with—intelligent, funny, proactive, and knowing exactly how to go after what they want. Her heroes…sigh…well, they are just plain swoon-worthy!”

  ~Virginia Heath, Historical Romance author and nominee for the distinguished RoNA in 2017

  Lady Saves

  the Duke

  by

  Annabelle Anders

  Lord Love a Lady, Book 3

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Lady Saves the Duke

  COPYRIGHT © 2019 by Annabelle Anders

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Contact Information: [email protected]

  Cover Art by Debbie Taylor

  The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  PO Box 708

  Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

  Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

  Publishing History

  First Tea Rose Edition, 2019

  Print ISBN 978-1-5092-2427-2

  Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-2428-9

  Lord Love a Lady, Book 3

  Published in the United States of America

  Dedication

  To Mary Balogh.

  For inspiring me to create new worlds.

  ~

  And to my mom,

  for buying me my first Mary Balogh book.

  ~

  A special shout out as well

  to all the members of my Facebook Group,

  A Regency House Party!

  Thanks for letting me rant, asking your opinions,

  and just keeping me motivated.

  You Ladies Absolutely ROCK!

  Chapter 1

  Miss Abigail Wright had not planned to attend a house party this summer. She’d not planned on attending any parties ever again. She was fine, thank you, dwelling at her father’s modest home, Raebourne, for as long as she was able.

  But plans—her plans anyway—often materialized entirely differently from her intended scenario.

  Which might explain why Abigail now sat, frustrated, on the delicate chair at her mother’s bedside. The furniture in her mother’s room was fashioned in the Queen Anne style, including the large canopied bed, desk, and side tables. Her mother liked all things around her to be delicate and feminine.

  “But, Mother,” Abigail implored, “I do not want to go to a house party! I have been looking forward to spending the summer with my cousin here, at Raebourne.”

  Her mother’s eyes remained closed as she reclined against several carefully arranged pillows. Her left foot was elevated as well—not exactly doctor’s orders; he’d said it was only a bruise and could bear weight any time—but Abigail’s mother insisted she must rest it for several days. And now she was insisting the “girls” needed a more capable chaperone than she herself could provide with her injury—such as it was. Thus, her reasoning for sending them to Raven’s Park.

  Which was ridiculous. Both Abigail and her cousin, Penelope, had long since passed the age where they required any chaperone other than each other.

  “The arrangements have been made. Your Aunt Emily assured me the Spencers are more than happy for you and Penelope to join the house party.” She sighed heavily. “Please do not be difficult about this, Abigail. After all your father and I have done! All the scandal we’ve put up with. We do not expect arguments at every turn.”

  Abigail looked down at her hands and resisted the urge to clench them tightly. At the age of seven-and-twenty, she was quite dependent upon her parents, and they often used the situation to treat her as a child. One mistake! One mistake and her future turned from one of hope and optimism to one of dependency and insecurity. Except she was determined to find some happiness, some joy, despite her circumstances.

  “But we were not invited, Mother!” Abigail whispered on an exhale. She knew she was a burden to both of her parents. Their ever-present worry hung over her like a thick, black cloud.

  Mr. Bernard Wright, although not a man of great fortune, was a man of property. When the estate was initially established, a life estate was to always be in place for the widow. This ensured security and comfort for Mrs. Wright as long as she lived but left Abigail to fend for herself upon the unfortunate event of her father and mother’s deaths. Both of her parents constantly reminded her that she must set herself up either as a wife to some country gentleman or a companion to an aging relative. Otherwise, she faced abject poverty eventually.

  She would not be destitute. She had a few ideas. And, as a last resort, she could find a position as an elderly person’s companion. She could not contemplate marriage. She’d lost that prospect upon her epic failure in society.

  She pushed these worries aside. She would enjoy her life for now, for she may not always be so fortunate. Her father, although more dependent upon spirits than she would like
, was still very healthy and vigorous. As was her mother.

  Except for when her mother did not wish to be, which was the case today.

  “Your uncle and aunt have assured me you will be welcome,” her mother repeated. She opened her eyes and looked sidelong at her daughter. Studying Abigail’s gray day dress and frayed white pelisse, she added, “And do wear some of your prettier dresses, dear. You look almost fetching when you put forth an effort.” She touched her index finger to her cheek. “Give me your kiss goodbye now. I have told Coachman John you and Penelope must leave at sunup tomorrow. I shall still be abed. I don’t want you to miss any more of the house party than you already have.”

  All spring, Abigail had anticipated Penelope’s visit. The simple pleasures she’d looked forward to enjoying with her cousin, such as attending choir practice, visiting friends, and taking long walks around the village, were to be scrapped for a blasted summer house party. Abigail’s mother refused to accept defeat where her only daughter’s matrimonial prospects were concerned.

  When Penelope had arrived two days ago and informed Abigail’s mother that her parents, the Baron and Baroness of Riverton, were attending a house party at Raven’s Park, a cunning gleam appeared in Mrs. Wright’s eyes. The Ravensdale family consisted of three very single, very eligible sons who were likely to be in attendance, one a viscount and the other two mere misters. But sons of an earl, nonetheless.

  Abigail leaned forward, dutifully kissed her mother’s powdered cheek and gave her a gentle hug. Her mother was bound for disappointment. Abigail knew better than anybody that her mother’s hopes were, in truth, unrealistic. At Abigail’s advanced age, she was all too aware of her own lack of appeal to any man seeking a wife. Aside from being on the shelf, she was certain that, although not an antidote, she could boast no real claim to beauty. Her mother called her plump. Penelope was kind enough to refer to her as voluptuous.

  Abigail had long resigned herself to the unfortunate truth that her breasts were more prominent than those of most ladies and her hips more rounded as well. She did not feel overly large, as a person, for she was short in stature and somewhat petite. And ever since…well, she could no longer summon the enthusiasm required to maintain a slim, fashionable figure. It would serve no purpose at this point. And for this reason, she had no intention of forgoing cakes and biscuits with her tea. A girl needed some indulgence in her life, after all. Especially when one could only look forward to a very long future as a spinster.

  Closing the door behind her, Abigail forced herself to smile. She would simply have to adjust her attitude and enjoy this unexpected journey. She mustn’t fear it. All would be well. Contentment was a state of mind, after all.

  And so early the next morning, feeling light of heart, Abigail climbed into her parents’ ancient traveling carriage, along with her cousin, en route to a party to which she had not been invited. She refused to dwell upon her mother’s unreasonable expectations. The day was too beautiful to be ignored. In addition to the fresh air and blue skies, she was embarking on this adventure with her dearest friend in the world.

  “What a glorious summer this is turning out to be! So much sunshine. Everything is blooming, and the meadows are overflowing. It was kind of Lady Ravensdale to allow us to join your parents. Do you not think so, Penelope?” She’d embrace her usual optimism with a bright and determined smile.

  Penelope snorted. “Oh, good one, Abby. Surely, your mother must give up on us at some point. Has she never seen the sons of Lord Ravensdale? Does she not realize they are handsome, charming, and wealthy? Does she not realize that when they choose to take wives, they will be able to select from the most beautiful and youngest ladies in London?” She ended her rhetorical questions with a roll of her eyes and then looked back out of the carriage window to watch the rolling scenery.

  Abigail absorbed Penelope’s words. She herself had never laid eyes on any of Lord Ravensdale’s sons. She had heard about them, of course. Such a prominent family as the Spencers often received mention in the newspapers and gossip sheets. Their only daughter, in fact, had made quite a splash a few weeks ago by calling an end to her engagement with the Duke of Cortland.

  The girl must be either very brave or very foolish. Abigail could never imagine exercising such assertiveness on her own behalf. Abigail looked forward to meeting Lady Natalie Spencer, however, a girl who could take matters into her own hands with such bravado. Abigail sighed and closed her eyes.

  After a few hours, the carriage crested a hill and turned into a gated driveway. This must be Raven’s Park. Ah, yes, it was. The name of the estate had been elegantly scripted into the decorative iron entrance. As the carriage made a slight turn, a large Georgian manor situated in a protected valley came into sight. The patchwork of neatly tended holdings they had been traveling through gave way to a cleverly landscaped park, the perfect setting for the stately mansion. The façade of the great home was liberally covered with ivy and closely surrounded by copses of trees, lawns, and haphazard wooded areas. The exterior, a whitewashed limestone, contrasted with the greenery surrounding it. In spite of its size, Abigail found it pretty and homey.

  The carriage halted, and the steps were pulled down. Both of Penelope’s parents, as well as a few others, had stepped outside to greet them.

  The men sported tailored suits with well-pressed cravats and shining boots while the women, not to be outdone, wore dresses made of fine materials accessorized with expensive pendants and draping pearls. These people represented some of the highest sticklers of the ton. They lived a different life from the rest of humanity.

  A uniformed footman opened the door and reached inside the carriage to assist Penelope and Abigail outside as though they had travelled from Buckingham Palace rather than the tiny village she’d grown up in.

  “You girls certainly made it here quickly. I should have known your mother would have jumped at such an opportunity.” The scent of Penelope’s mother’s perfume engulfed Abigail as she allowed her aunt to embrace her properly. The baroness, although outwardly welcoming, betrayed her discomfort in her pinched lips and disapproving appraisal of Abigail’s dress.

  Abigail smoothed her skirts, which had certainly wrinkled over the course of the journey. She didn’t wish to embarrass her aunt any more than their arrival obviously did.

  And then the Earl and Countess of Ravensdale stepped forward as the baroness presented her. Although considerably older than herself and Penelope, they were a handsome couple indeed.

  “Welcome to Raven’s Park. I’m so delighted the two of you could join us.” The countess’s words made it sound as though they’d been invited along with all of their other guests. If Lady Ravensdale was put out by their arrival, she certainly did not show it. Even the earl, who ought to be haughty and aloof, acknowledged their arrival with a pleasant nod.

  Abigail wanted to believe such a welcome to be genuine but could not ignore her feelings of doubt. Even the servants appeared to be turned out better than she. Such elegance all around her!

  “My daughter, Natalie,” the countess declared, “will show you ladies to your chamber.” She ushered them inside to where the young beauty awaited them. “And I’m so sorry the only available accommodations are on the upper floor.” The countess winced.

  The servant’s quarters. Abigail plastered on a smile, wanting to apologize for their arrival for the hundredth time already. Deep breath. Smile.

  With a faraway look in her eyes, Lady Natalie stood off to the side while her mother said all the right things.

  Abigail envied her poise, her calm. Seeing her now, Abigail understood how the girl had been bold enough to jilt a duke. Although beautiful, the girl exuded goodness. Dressed in the latest fashions, Lady Natalie did not act with any disdain toward her mother’s uninvited guests.

  Painfully aware of the circumstances surrounding their arrival, however, Abigail could not help but feel contrite for their presence. “I hope our arrival is not an inconvenience, my lady, even thoug
h Aunt Emily said your mother had assured her it was not. My mother was quite out of sorts with herself for her inability to chaperone us adequately. We both assured her it was not necessary, but confined to her suite, she expressed that we would be subject to all manner of indiscretions. She does have an extensive imagination.”

  Lady Natalie and Penelope had a prior acquaintance, and so there was no ice, so to speak, to break there. And of course, her cousin would not bend to normal pleasantries. “A bunch of tripe, Abigail. Aunt Edna saw the opportunity to expose us to some bachelors yet again and came up with the most transparent of excuses.”

  Lady Natalie did not seem offended, but she did look a bit confused. She turned toward Penelope questioningly. “But there are no bachelors here, really.” And then she caught on. “My brothers?”

  At this point, Abigail spoke up so as to smooth over yet another of Penelope’s bouts of brutal honesty. “You have no need to worry, my lady. There is no danger to your siblings—as I am sure you can gather on your own.” She added the last with a gesture at herself, in her wrinkled traveling dress.

  Lady Natalie did not look at her apparel, however. She stared directly into Abigail’s eyes as though she could read more about her there. And then, as though having made her decision, she nodded brusquely. “Nonetheless, I am glad of your company.” She continued leading them up the stairs. “As much as I enjoy my mother’s friends, it will be a pleasure to have the companionship of ladies closer to my age. Mother has planned a garden party for this afternoon, inviting everyone who lives within a day’s drive, mind you, but not one of them below the age of forty. I think the boys will have set up some games. If not, we’ll find some other entertainment.” Lady Natalie grimaced. “But you shall have a few hours to rest before the festivities begin.”

  They reached the landing and followed her down the long corridor. Upon opening the door to their chamber, Lady Natalie then took her leave, as though she had other things to tend to. What did the daughter of an earl need to tend to, Abigail wondered.

  The room consisted of two small beds, two desks, and two dressers. Although the furnishings were somewhat austere, the view from the window made up for them in spades. It overlooked the entire front of the park, which included the lake and part of the wilderness walks. Abigail sighed. Perhaps one day she would live in a home such as this, as a companion or governess.