A Duke in Disguise (Westham Chronicles Book 3) Read online

  A Duke in Disguise

  Westham Chronicles, Volume 3

  Rachel Osborne

  Published by Rachel Osborne, 2019.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  A DUKE IN DISGUISE

  First edition. August 20, 2019.

  Copyright © 2019 Rachel Osborne.

  Written by Rachel Osborne.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  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

  Epilogue

  Author’s Note

  Acknowledgements

  Also by Rachel Osborne | Regency Historical Fiction

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  The merry music of the jig reached its conclusion and Samuel Rowe, the Duke of Edgmont, bowed politely to his partner, Miss Sarah Davenport. She continued to fix him with a simpering smile, waiting, he knew, for him to request the pleasure of her company for a second dance. The next notes played decided him against such an endeavour, for the jig gave way to a minuet and there was no way on earth he was about to engage Miss Sarah Davenport, of the simpering smile and non-existent opinion, to dance that. He looked about him and saw her likeness reflected back to him a dozen times, as myriad young ladies of the Regents’ Assembly forsook their own partners for the hope of a chance of catching Edgmont’s eye.

  “Excuse me, Miss Davenport,” Samuel said, with every appearance of civility. “I believe I see my friend attempting to attract my attention and I did promise to speak with him this evening before the night is through.” He bowed again for good measure, affording her a moment to replace her disappointed scowl with the resigned smile he knew would be in position when next their eyes met and bid her a hasty farewell.

  He retreated from the centre of the room as quickly as he could, offering smiles and nods as he passed acquaintances in lieu of stopping and speaking to them, for he did not dare stop lest he be presented with a partner he could not refuse. The minuet was dull as the devil and afforded one time to talk to one’s companion - in which case it rather mattered that one’s companion had brains as well as beauty. Having spent several seasons in London before this one, Samuel could not readily admit to meeting many ladies for whom that could be considered likely.

  “Edward!” He approached his quarry from behind, clamping two hands down on his friend’s broad shoulders in an affectionate address so suddenly that Edward yelped and flinched so violently that a glass clutched in one hand jerked several spots of dark liquid upon him. Mr Edward Nicholl spun around to scowl at him.

  “Edgmont.” He frowned, brushing uselessly at the stain on his elegant cravat. “What do you mean by accosting me like that? Can you not see that I am busy speaking with...speaking with...” He looked around him, bereft of his companion and let out a sigh. “Well, someone anyway. A sweet young thing who I was getting on with quite capitally until the dance began and she found a more likely prospect.”

  “An unwitting victim, you mean,” Samuel said, turning his friend’s head towards the dancers and pointing out the pretty young lady who was dancing circles around a bespectacled, rumpled-looking fellow over a decade her senior. “That is Sir Robert Naseby, Lately in London and as-yet-unmarried.” He dropped his voice, mimicking the confidential tones adopted by many a Mama around this very room. “Rumoured to be worth a tidy sum to any who may win his heart...”

  Edward harrumphed and downed the last of his claret before turning to glare once more at his friend.

  “Well, happiness abounds for Sir Robert. But not the Duke of Edgmont, or else he would not be wasting the evening speaking to me.” He waved towards the dancers. “Why are you not amusing yourself? Exercising the virtue of your title and snatching amiable young misses from the less titled, less wealthy but ever so much more deserving amongst us?”

  Samuel laughed, well-versed in this particular complaint of his friend’s, who blamed all his ills on being a youngest-son of an unremarkable gentleman. Edward Nicholl was quite wealthy enough to be content, but in London, surrounded by Dukes and Peers whose wealth and rank far outstripped his, he thought himself quite cruelly overshadowed.

  “I am in no mood to be hunted this evening!” Samuel said, with a feigned shudder. “Come, you must be tired of standing here watching the dancing, too. I know you have no patience for wallflowers. Let us not become them, ourselves, but seek alternative amusements....!” His dark eyes sparkled with merriment and Edward let out another theatrical groan.

  “You mean a game of cards, I suppose. Ordinarily, I would be more than happy for the chance to win back what I lost to you last time, but I fear my purse is a little light of late...”

  “You must not let a little thing like a lack of ready money stand in the way of an enjoyable hour, Nicholls!”

  “Sage advice from one who has never lacked a penny in his life,” Edward muttered, but he permitted his friend to turn and steer them from the great hall and into a slightly smaller ante-room, no less crowded but with a distinct absence of young ladies. Smoke circled the ceiling and masculine laughter gave way only to the regular clink of glasses.

  They toured the tables before finding a quiet, empty corner and settled to an easy game of vingt-et-un. It was a civilised pastime for Edward was in debt from the off and had no need to win further creditors amongst their London set. The duo’s gameplay this evening soon made them equal, however, and soon their gambling grew listless, setting down cards and shuffling them merely an occupation for their hands, while they drank, smoked and talked.

  “I still do not see why you do not prefer to dance, Edgmont. It is not as if young ladies are not queuing up to dance with a duke.”

  “Precisely why I do not wish to dance with them!” Samuel remarked, playing his hand with a flourish. “It is tiresome, Ed, to forever be viewed in the light of one’s title, one’s wealth - rumoured or otherwise - rather than for one’s self. To be seen as a prospect and not as a person.”

  Edward snorted, draining the last of his drink and holding it up, signalling a servant to replenish it.

  “What?” Samuel asked, sensing reproach in his friend’s expression. Edward did not hold back.

  “You are a hard man to please.” He sniffed, lifting his chin and affecting an attitude that Samuel supposed was intended to mimic his own. Even Edward’s voice changed as he enunciated each word with care. “My title overshadows my personality, my handsome reflection plagues me and my weighty purse is a burden. Oh, woe is me and woe is the life of the young Duke of Edgmont.” He sniggered. “You’ll not make me pity you if those and those alone are the troubles you face. You do not seem to understand the notion of a charmed life but let me assure you, my friend, you appear to be living it.”

  “Appearances can be deceptive,” Samuel muttered, heat flooding a little at his friend’s painfully accurate assertion. He was ungrateful and he knew he was. Many people struggled to overcome far worse circumstances than his own and he ought not to complain of his lot in life when it was so significant. Yet could his life truly be called “charmed”? I do not think so.

  “Do I speak too cruelly?” Edward asked, nudging Sam’s foot with his toe. “You wish not to be reminded just how richly fo
rtune has favoured you?”

  “I think you are fixated on my advantages whilst forgetting your own,” Samuel grumbled, straightening in his seat and listing off Edward’s benefits on his fingers. “You have wealth aplenty of your own - a very pretty estate and a home in London, so you need not cry poverty. You have no title, I’ll grant you, but that also gives you the freedom to act precisely as you wish, without being forced to live up to another’s legacy. Your brother will carry the burden of inheritance, so you are not consistently viewed as a prize to be won by whatever vacuous, empty-headed young miss decides she may try for you. Anonymity can be yours if you wish it to be.”

  “Aye, and even if I do not!” Edward took a sip of his drink. “Perhaps, then, we are both ungrateful idiots and ought to count our blessings instead of envying one another.” His eyes narrowed. “Or perhaps I have the suggestion of a scheme that might offer each of us an escape, for a little while, from the doldrums...”

  I HOPE YOU DO NOT MISUNDERSTAND me, Joanna, dear. It is not that I do not wish to see you again, but the idea of your joining me here is impossible. You are much better served in staying where you are...

  Miss Joanna Devereaux scowled, crumpling her letter into a ball at the very moment the door to the parlour opened and her friend, Miss Edith Barnes, tiptoed inside.

  “Joanna! I wondered where you were hiding. Oh, now! What do you have there?”

  Too slowly, Joanna had attempted to hide her mother’s note from the watchful eye of her friend, but Edith was too canny to be deceived. Joanna smoothed the sheet of thin paper out and forced a brittle smile onto her thin lips.

  “It is nought but a short missive from my Mama. She regrets that I will be unable to join her in London but hopes that I am enjoying the hospitality of my dear friend Edith.”

  She patted the sofa next to her and Edith obediently joined her, peering over her shoulder in an attempt to read the content of the letter, at least as it pertained to her, but Joanna swept it away a moment too soon for any further insight into its contents to be possible.

  “Well, your dear friend Edith is certainly enjoying having you to stay here. Tell me truly, though, do you mind remaining with us? And coming with us to Bath?” She pulled a face. “I know Bath can scarcely compare with London, but Mama has been prescribed to take the waters by her doctor and I will be aching for companionship. I think it an altogether charming alternative to spending the next month whiling away here in the countryside, but I imagine in comparison to enjoying all that London has to offer with your elegant Mama, the prospect of Bath with Miss Barnes is rather less than thrilling.” Edith sighed, and Joanna felt a wave of sympathy for her quiet friend. Edith was an amiable young lady but she seemed entirely oblivious of her own charms and only too aware of those possessed by others. In short: Joanna devoted a great deal of time to reassuring her that she was here because she wished to be, not merely because she had to be. Even though Mama had deprived her of an alternative, she was by no means disappointed to be spending this time in the home of her friend and the promise of a visit to Bath was a considerable improvement on her previous situation. She told her friend so.

  “I assure you, Edith, the prospect of Bath is far preferable to facing the season alone at Roland Park.” She grimaced. “I told you that my brother and Amelia have gone abroad on their wedding tour? They did invite me, of course, but I certainly did not wish to accompany them when they only have eyes for one another.”

  She sighed. She did not mind that Amelia had found happiness Sir Benjamin Devereaux, for in his marrying her friend, Joanna had gained a sister, but she could not help but mourn the loss of her friend just a little bit. Amelia had been hers - and only hers - for so long that she was not entirely at ease with sharing her.

  “Poor Jo!” Edith petted her warmly on the arm. “Still, your misfortune is to my benefit, so I shall not be too sympathetic!” She grinned, wickedly. “Seeing Bath with my friend by my side will be much better than going only as Mama’s companion!”

  She shuddered almost imperceptibly at this suggestion and Joanna’s smile grew. Mrs Barnes was a very generous lady but she was also very needy and already Joanna had begun to tire of her perpetual calls for “some entertainment, Edith!” interrupting the girls in whatever plans they had made for their own time.

  “What will we see first, do you think?” Joanna asked, eager to encourage her friend to speak more of Bath, for, though she bemoaned it as scarcely fashionable, there was a sparkle in Edith’s dull grey eyes whenever she mentioned the place that suggested she was not entirely immune to its charms.

  “Oh, well, we shall arrive quite late in the day, I expect,” Edith began. “And travelling is so tiring I imagine we will all be eager for our beds. Mama has taken some very pretty rooms, although -” She bit her lip. “They are quite small. But then many places in Bath are not large. It is not necessary, you see, for the town is quite compact and everywhere can be reached by walking!”

  These words were hurried out, with a little laugh at the end of them and Joanna felt sure they had been constructed entirely for her benefit, a justification of the fact that neither Mrs nor Miss Barnes was wealthy to the degree that Miss Devereaux was wealthy, and fearing that she would judge their paltry condition when she saw for herself the size of the house they had taken.

  “I am fond of walking,” Joanna agreed. “And how pleasant it will be to have a town to walk in and not forever be tramping through fields!”

  She thought, ruefully, of the four inches of mud she had brought back with her from their afternoon trek to the milliners and cheered that by tomorrow that would no longer be a concern.

  “First of all I think we must visit the pump rooms,” Edith continued. “Mama will wish to go to the baths, I expect, for her rheumatism, but she will take her ladies’ maid with her for that, leaving us quite free to go about as we please. The pump rooms are where everybody goes, so we might see what sort of company we can look forward to during our stay.” She bit her lip. “I am hoping we might be treated to at least a few gentlemen of title and more wealth than we are likely to meet if we remain here!” Edith sighed, for to find a husband, and in particular one of wealth and position was her greatest concern. Joanna could hardly fault her friend, for she shared her concern, made worse by the fact of seeing her closest friend in Westham wed, and then another young lady even younger than Joanna, marry in quick succession.

  “I did not think Bath quite so fashionable any more, Edith. Perhaps you must think it an enjoyable change of scenery and not build too much expectation of who we may or may not meet there.”

  “I do not care about fashion!” Edith declared, not at all truthfully. “I still maintain we shall stand more chance of meeting elegant, amiable gentlemen in Bath than we do here.”

  Joanna laughed, and together the two young ladies took a turn about the parlour, watching the rain fall against the windows and building a pretty picture of what their trip would be, unreasonably grateful for Mrs Barnes’ rheumatism, that it might necessitate such a visit.

  Chapter Two

  “It will never work in London,” Edward said. It was the very next morning, and the two friends had met early for a stroll, with the sole intent of clearing heads rendered foggy by too much brandy and too late a bedtime. Their conversation had circled back to the scheme they had debated, only partly seriously, the previous evening.

  “It will never work at all!” Samuel declared, squinting in the bright morning sun and wishing he had not insisted on their taking a walk. He spied a bench and aimed his friend towards it, sinking down and stretching out his long legs. Allowing his eyes to close, he rolled his head back, letting the sun warm his face. “It was a foolish notion, caused by brandy and speculation, although I would not mind switching lives with you for a time if it could be managed.”

  “That is my point,” Edward said, perching next to him and continuing his argument. His voice grew urgent and excitable, forcing Samuel to straighten and look at him out
of one eye. “It might be managed, but not here.” He leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees. “Here we are known. We are both of us known. There are too many people who would recognise and contradict our stories, or see through the scheme and make a joke of the thing. If it is to be a true experiment, we would need somewhere where we are not known, where we might arrive in disguise and persuade people that we are precisely who we claim to be.”

  “That you are the Duke of Edgmont?”

  “Precisely. And you, my good man, plain, anonymous, Mr Nicholls.”

  The thought was almost as enticing to Samuel that morning as it had been the previous evening And what was more, when Edward spoke as he did just now, the thing even seemed possible. Likely to fail, no doubt, but worth an attempt.

  “It would be a lark, I suppose,” he murmured, shrugging his shoulders. “But where? We cannot go north, for there is too much chance of running into an acquaintance of mine or yours. The coast?”

  Edward shook his head.

  “Too many people holiday there that might know me. My father’s business connections might recognise me - or recognise that you are not me.” He bit his lip. “I was thinking of Bath.”

  “You were thinking...you have truly been giving this consideration, Ed, haven’t you?” Samuel chuckled and his friend blushed faintly. “No, do not be ashamed of it. I proposed the idea for a lark, but I must own that it is enticing indeed, and perhaps your suggestion is a good one.” He frowned. “Bath.”

  “You have been there?”

  Samuel shook his head.

  “Bath is suited to the invalid and the genteelly impoverished, and as I am neither, I have never felt the need of going there.” He arched an eyebrow. “You?”

  “I visited once, many years ago, shortly before my mother’s death.” Edward swallowed. “Your assessment is not incorrect, although there is a great deal more to Bath than invalids and members of the gentry who cannot afford London. It is not an unpleasant place to spend a few weeks, although, I grant you, not as busy as town at the height of the season.”