The Trouble with Saving a Duke: A Historical Regency Romance Novel Read online

  The Trouble with Saving a Duke

  A Historical Regency Romance Novel

  Emma Linfield

  Contents

  A Thank You Gift

  Prologue

  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

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Epilogue

  Extended Epilogue

  Preview: An Unexpected Bride for the Betrayed Duke

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Also by Emma Linfield

  About the Author

  A Thank You Gift

  Thanks a lot for purchasing my book. It really means a lot to me, because this is the best way to show me your love.

  As a Thank You gift I have written a full length novel for you called The Betrayed Lady Winters. It’s only available to people who have downloaded one of my books and you can get your free copy by tapping this link here.

  Once more, thanks a lot for your love and support.

  With love and appreciation,

  Emma Linfield

  About the Book

  His heart whispered her name as if it were a prayer for deliverance…

  There is nothing worse than losing everything to your worst enemy. If Lady Seraphina Camden doesn't find a suitable husband soon, her family risks that very fate. Until the day she meets the new stable hand.

  With someone out for his blood, Lysander Keswick, the Duke of Emberborough, is running for his life. Unable to recall who he is after suffering a nasty hit to the head, he finds work as a stable boy. A position that leaves him at the mercy of Lady Seraphina, the one lady he can never have.

  Torn between returning memories of hatred and the duty to their hearts, Seraphina's sudden disappearance comes as a woeful reminder: someone still wants Lysander in the grave. And the only clue to their salvation lies in a name that they both know but haven't heard of before...

  Prologue

  An arrow zoomed so close by his head that he could feel the air change as it passed.

  Close. Too close. How did they manage to track me down again?

  He spurred his horse forward, faster and faster. The gelding would not be able to carry on at this speed much longer; he knew it. But he had to put some distance between himself and his attackers. Up ahead he saw a fork in the road. One appeared to lead to a clearing, a road perhaps. The other further into the thicket of the forest.

  He had to make a decision, and he had to make it now.

  The forest. It is easier to gallop into the forest and hope to disappear, hidden in its vast expanse.

  “Come on, good boy. Just a little farther. I’ll find us a place to hide out. We’ll make it. We will,” he spoke quietly to the horse, more to soothe his own fears than the horse. Several attempts on his life had been made over the past few weeks. So much so that he’d decided the best thing to do was to get away. He’d left this younger brother, his closest confidant, in charge of investigating the attacks.

  He had decided to visit relatives at the other end of the country. So far away from home that the attackers were certain to never find him.

  He’d been riding for almost three days now, stopping only to switch horses at the posting inns or for a short rest and a bite to eat. After the second day, he’d grown ever more confident that he’d shaken his pursuers. Or so he’d thought.

  For here they were now. Following him. Shooting arrows at him in the middle of nowhere.

  Is anywhere safe? How do they continue to find me? It is vexing. It is terrifying to say the least.

  He could feel the horse struggle beneath him. He’d ridden the poor animal hard in his attempts to get away. He had to slow down. This horse did not appear as fit as some of the others he’d ridden. His heart beating fast, he slowed his horse to a walk, looking over his shoulder to search for his assailants. There was nobody. All he could see were Wych Elm and Alder trees. He sighed with relief.

  “We might have shaken them for now, old boy.”

  He patted the horse on the side of its brown neck. He had to find a stream of some kind; the horse needed to be watered. He’d locate the nearest posting inn and trade it for a fresh horse. He himself had broken into a sweat. His shirt stuck to his back and his long brown hair was glued to his face by the sticky sweat that ran down his face.

  It was the middle of September, but the heat of summer had not yet tipped over into the pleasant days of autumn.

  He halted his horse and glanced around. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the sounds of the forest. Trees rustled in the gentle breeze and birds sang. The sound of a woodpecker pecking away at a tree came from the distance and then…yes. There it was. Water rushing. He opened his eyes again and redirected his horse to the south, where he’d heard the stream.

  “Not far now, almost there.”

  They trotted along and a few minutes later came to the small stream. He dismounted and led the horse to drink, squatting down himself to splash the cold water into his face. It felt glorious when it hit his overheated skin. Glancing back once more to make sure he had not been followed, he removed his waistcoat and dropped it on the rocks beside the stream. He threw his cravat, which was sweaty and scratchy against his skin and tossed it aside.

  He stood and pulled his white shirt out of his pantaloons to allow much needed air to cool down.

  “Gadzooks, what am I doing? It is not as though I am going to be seen here,” he said to the horse who was drinking up the cold water. He quickly unbuttoned the first few buttons of his shirt and then splashed himself down. It was a glorious feeling.

  He glanced at the horse who was now standing quietly, waiting for him to finish. He sighed. He would need to press on. Sooner or later they would be tracked down. If he could only make it to his relatives’ home, he knew he would be safe there. But it was at least another day’s ride, if not more. And with these assailants on his heels…

  He shook his head and leaned forward, gathering water in his cupped hand and drinking. He was in the process of relishing the feeling of the water soothing his parched throat when…

  “By Jove! They’ve found us.”

  He jumped up as the sound of horses galloping behind him grew louder. He swung himself on the gelding and spurned him into a gallop.

  “Quickly! Quickly now, good boy. Get us out of here.”

  I should not have lingered here for so long, it is my own fault. How stupid of me.

  He didn’t dare glance over his shoulder for he knew just how close they had to be by the sound of the horses.

  They raced through the fores
t, jumping over hedges and through puddles that splashed onto his white shirt which still hung loose from his body.

  Another arrow zoomed past, missing him narrowly once more. They would catch him. There was no question, they would certainly catch him this time. With his horse exhausted and nowhere to turn, there was no way he could escape this time. Hope faded as quickly as the afternoon light as he hurried forward.

  Just when it seemed there was nowhere left to turn, he noticed the tree line thinning to the West and beyond that he saw movement.

  A road! And the movement was almost certainly a person, or a group even. His salvation. The men would not be able to harm him if there were witnesses, if they were seen. All he had to do was get to them.

  “Come on, old boy,” he shouted at the horse, pushing him forward for one last sprint that could save them.

  They jumped over another hedge, with the road coming ever closer when an arrow of arrows zoomed past him. He ducked down as low as he could but just as he was approaching the road, just as salvation was near, he felt a sharp pain in his left side. He screamed out in pain and inspected the area with his hand. An arrow had grazed him, grazed him badly. His hand was covered in blood and he felt himself growing faint.

  Suddenly, just as he reached for the reins to slow the horse, his trusted gelding bucked, and he felt himself losing his grip. He was catapulted into the late afternoon air and felt himself floating. A moment that lingered and stretched for what seemed like an eternity. An odd, peaceful sensation rushed through his body as he sailed through the air and toward the ground. He saw it coming, saw the ridges of the rock as he flew toward it and then he was swallowed entirely by darkness.

  Chapter 1

  Seraphina’s eyes were watering up as she read, so enraptured was she by the story. She had picked up the novel Clarissa, Or, the History of a Young Lady, the previous day from her father’s library. It had kept her up half the night and she was almost finished. The final chapters touched her deeply and she dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief. Suddenly the carriage hit another pothole in the road, and she bounced so hard in her seat her book flew out of her hands.

  “Faith. Now I will have lost my place,” she complained as she bent down to pick up the book, flipping through the pages.

  “How you can read while riding in a carriage I shall never understand,” her sister, Mary, said as she attended to her embroidery.

  Seraphina frowned. “It is no different than stitching. Only perhaps more pleasurable. At least for me.”

  “You are an odd duck, Seraphina. I must say. How are you ever going to find a suitable husband when you have your nose in a book all day and you smell of horses and dogs?”

  Seraphina tossed her handkerchief at her sister who shrieked as if she’d been bombarded with a wash ball.

  “I am not the one who is bathed in a pint of perfume to cover my unpleasant sweaty scent, Dearest Sister,” she regretted the words at once for her sister’s face darkened and her corners of her mouth quivered.

  “I am sorry, Mary. I have been in a mood these past few days. The thought of the upcoming ball has left me…”

  “Crabby. Unpleasant. Impossible to deal with. Miffed.”

  Seraphina raised her hands, “Yes, yes. All of it. I am sorry. You know how I dislike being put on display.”

  Seraphina shook her head; her dark-brown hair had come loose from the up-do she’d so carefully created that morning. She swept it out of her face.

  Her sister shrugged. “But then I shall ask you once more. How do you intend to find a husband if you despise going to any function that might lead you to meet someone?”

  It was true, she despised social functions. If it were up to her, she would spend her days quite happily reading the many books she’d accumulated over the years with one of her pugs snuggled on her lap.

  Seraphina had never enjoyed social functions. It was not that she was anti-social, per se. She had many friends, was generally cordial, and far from shy. In fact, she enjoyed picnics with her friends, or a carriage ride, and she simply adored riding her horse through the forest, either with one of friends or with her sisters. She just did not like the public spectacle that every ball and every formal dinner turned into.

  She did not enjoy having to play the part society expected her to play. Unlike Mary, who loved the attention and the dancing.

  “You don’t suppose I could find a way out of the dance, do you? Given that Cynthia is home, perhaps Mama will allow me to stay behind with her,” she asked her sister, suddenly serious.

  Mary frowned and shook her head. “I should imagine not. You will only set up Mama’s bristles. You know how she is. You already managed to avoid most of the balls this Season. She won’t let you miss the country dance too. As for Cynthia, I am sure Mama will force her to come.”

  Seraphina sighed. It was true. Her mother would never allow her to miss the dance. And poor Cynthia. While her sister had chosen a life of charity and dedicated herself to an orphanage for girls in London, their mother never failed to force her to attend balls whenever she came for a visit.

  Seraphina suspected their mother harbored a secret hope of changing her oldest daughter’s mind and convince her being a lady of the ton was preferable to charity work.

  “Poor Cynthia.”

  Mary nodded, never taking her eyes of her stich work. “Indeed. Imagine how out of place she will feel. The least you can do is come and be miserable alongside her, if you cannot find it in your heart to enjoy yourself.”

  Her sister boxed her in the arm in a playful manner and winked. “Who knows, you might meet a young man who’s just as eager to read and daydream as you are.”

  “I wish!” Seraphina replied. “I would very much like to find love just with one of my choosing, not someone Mama and Papa select for me. I find it rather vexing that parents make the choices for their daughters.”

  “Don’t you trust Papa to find you a good match?”

  Seraphina shrugged. “Papa loves me. But I do not believe he truly understands me. Cynthia is pious and proper, while you are carefree and sociable. He understands those traits. He does not understand me and my curious nature, as Mama likes to say.”

  Mary shook her head.

  “She does not mean it in a bad way. I dare say, she is simply worried she will lose out on another daughter entering society, the way she did with Cynthia.”

  “So, I should pay for Cynthia choosing a life as an Assistant Matron instead of one as a wife and mother?”

  Mary slapped her hands down beside her and let out an exasperated sigh.

  “But you do want to marry. You said so yourself. You just do not want to be out and participate in the activities that might find you a suitable man. I mean, really, Seraphina. Do you think a man will just fall from the sky one day and be perfect for you?”

  She shook her head and opened her mouth but did not get the chance to reply, for the carriage suddenly slowed as voices filled the air.

  Mary stuck her head out of the window and gasped.

  “Faith, it is Lottie and Hester. They are in quite a state. Near hysterical.”

  The two kitchen maids had set off to head into town earlier that morning to do the shopping.

  “Out here still? They left for town hours ago.” The carriage stopped. Seraphina opened the door without waiting for the coachman and walked around to her sister’s side. Mary, on the other hand had remained in the carriage and waited for Fornsham, their coachman, to open the door and escort her out. The way a proper lady should.

  Seraphina rolled her eyes at her sister’s proper manners and set off to meet the two maids who were rushing toward them.

  “Lady Seraphina,” Lottie, the younger of the two, called out. “Come quickly. There is a man, over yonder. We spotted him lying there. He’s unconscious.”

  She stopped in her tracks. “A man? In the middle of the road?”

  “Aye, My Lady. We found him a little while ago and went for help. We’ve been walking a whi
le but found nobody about.” She looked at her fellow maid who stood beside her. “Should have pressed on to Vallant Castle, like I said.”

  “Very well, next time we find a man in the road we will do it your way,” the older maid snapped. Then she turned to Seraphina. “I thought it better to try for a carriage to help. He doesn’t look right, I declare. All busted up and bloody, clothes ripped and dirty all over.”