Captive to the Kiss of a Wicked Duke: A Steamy Historical Regency Romance Novel Read online

  Heath didn’t say anything. He retrieved the necklace and then went to the carriage. He found the coachman in the street, a gash across his forehead.

  “Subtle,” he mumbled to Phillip.

  “I didn’t know him but I could tell he was annoying,” Phillip justified. They both climbed behind the horses.

  A groan made Heath pause. He looked down at the Duke to see him valiantly trying to roll onto his side. Blood gushed from his nose. “Who…” he rasped. “…are you?”

  Heath looked back to the front.

  “We’re the Red Fiends,” Phillip sang, already merry from their victory. “Though, I doubt you’ve heard of us. Until next time, Your Grace.”

  Heath didn’t wait for the Duke to say any more. They took off into the night, Phillip’s laughter echoing in the wind around them. Heath tried his best to pull his smile to the fore.

  Chapter 2

  Meredith had been sitting in the same spot for hours. She didn’t know how much time passed. She didn’t realize that it had truly been hours rather than minutes until someone entered the room and closed the door a little louder than needed. She jolted and then blinked, noticing suddenly that the sun was not so high in the sky anymore. It was drifting down toward the horizon, the faintest splash of pink and orange bathing the earth below it.

  Whoever had just entered approached slowly, tentatively. All of a sudden, Meredith no longer saw the oncoming sunset, nor could she feel that gentle breeze that was colder than it had been when she’d first sat down at the window. She was listening to the gentle footsteps behind her, and she folded her fingers together, trying to mask her rising nervousness.

  The footsteps stopped. Her heart thudded. There was no telling who was behind her. It was likely her father, or perhaps Jenny. But what if it wasn’t? What if it was the butler, Stanley, coming to tell her something? Or one of her father’s friends who visited from time to time? Or perhaps a maid who hadn’t even noticed she was sitting there when she entered because of who quite she’d been—

  “Meredith?”

  Relief flooded her at the sound of her father’s voice. Meredith turned to look at his face, noticing the usual worried crease of his brow. He was standing a few steps away from the chaise she sat on.

  She said nothing, only faced him. Her rapidly beating heart began to calm. She looked up expectantly at him.

  Lord William Cluett, the Earl of Pebblebrook, was a wiry thin man. Meredith was happy to look at him at times, to see how differently he looked from her. From their dark brown hair, to the heavy lidded green eyes, to their small mouths.

  The Earl chose to sit on a sofa a short distance away from Meredith’s chaise. He placed his hands on his knees, slowly, keeping his eyes on Meredith. “There is a matter I would like to speak to you about.”

  Again, she said nothing. She saw no reason to speak.

  “You are a beautiful lady. And the very last thing I want is for you to waste your days away sitting by the window and staring at the sky.” He glanced out the window as he said that, as if wondering if there was something she had been staring at. There wasn’t. Meredith remembered sitting by the window to enjoy the cool breeze and her mind wandered so much that she hadn’t realized so much time had passed.

  “Father?” Her voice was but a squeak. The sound almost felt foreign to her own ears. She hadn’t said anything all day, she realized. “Are you all right?”

  “Certainly, Meredith,” the Earl said with a sigh, his shoulder’s sagging. “It is you I worry for.”

  Meredith bit her lip. The Earl tensed.

  She didn’t know what he would say but she knew she wouldn’t like it. He was looking at her as if she were a scared animal, as if he needed only make one false move and she would go bolting out the door. But that was impossible. He was her father; she would never run from him. If it were someone else, however…

  “It is fine, Father,” she said tenderly. “You may say it.”

  He swallowed. Clearly, he was not convinced. “Tonight, there will be a ball hosted by the Countess of Millson. We shall both be attending.”

  Meredith sucked in a sharp breath. She saw her father tense for a moment, but then she didn’t see anything. The room seemed to blur a bit as a wave of anxiety came over her. She clutched her dress, remembering to breath.

  “I know you do not fancy balls, Meredith,” he said, his voice stronger now. As if he was forging ahead, having already dealt the worst blow. “But you must remember that you have a reputation you need to uphold. Attending this ball will put you in the eyes of the ton again, it will save you from being labeled a recluse. And perhaps we may be approached by a prospective suitor.”

  That only stole her breath. She could hardly fathom the thought of attending a ball, surrounded by so many people. To be married to someone as well?

  “Meredith.” Suddenly, her father was by her side. She felt his large hands on his arms, holding her gently, the way she preferred to be held if she ever needed to be. With as little embrace as possible. “I understand that you are afraid. But I have already told Lady Millson that we will both be in attendance. I think you will feel a little better if you go to your bedchamber and think of what you should wear.”

  On the contrary, that would only make it more difficult for her to breathe. But Meredith didn’t think her father would understand. He never truly understood, though she knew he always tried to. No one could understand why she had drawn into herself like this, why it was so difficult of her to crawl her way out.

  If he had understood, the very thought of having her attend this ball would never have crossed his mind. Meredith didn’t think she could bear the thought of attending.

  She nodded at him as she stood and said nothing as she left. Tears blurred her eyes but they never fell. The only good thing that had come out of her new weakened state was the ability to keep her tears from streaking past her cheeks. If they ever did, there would be no stopping them.

  Blindly, she made her way to her bedchamber just as her father had suggested. But she didn’t go there to pick out her gown for the evening. She wished to lie in her bed and ponder the fate that would await her tonight if she were to attend.

  She hadn’t expected to see Jenny already there. Jenny Davies, her lady’s maid, straightened at Meredith’s entrance and the moment she spotted the tears shimmering in Meredith’s eyes, she rushed over.

  “What happened?” she demanded to know.

  Meredith shook her head. She brushed past Jenny and went straight toward the doors that led out to her balcony. She enjoyed the breeze, the colder the better. It calmed her.

  Jenny followed her. Tendrils of her orange hair was pulled free from its chignon by the wind, bringing a flush to her pale skin. She came to Meredith’s side, not hiding her worried gaze.

  “You’re crying,” she pointed. “Usually, that means something bad has happened.”

  Meredith gazed out before her. Thankfully, her room faced the gardens and her balcony hovered near the rose garden her mother had loved so much. The smell calmed her. “Father wishes for me to attend a ball tonight.”

  “Oh.” Jenny understood. She knew Meredith’s pain and she was aware that the last thing Meredith wanted was to come face to face with the result of that pain. “Have you told him you do not wish to attend?”

  Meredith shook her head.

  “I suppose he would already know that,” Jenny mused aloud. She sighed, casting her gaze past the gardens. “Perhaps it is a good thing.”

  “Pardon?” Meredith gasped in disbelief. “Good?”

  Jenny nodded. Her eyes were the most dazzling shade of brown in the setting sun. “You have not left the manor in years, Meredith.”

  “I go to the gardens.”

  “That hardly counts and I’m certain you know it.” From the corner of her eye, Meredith saw Jenny reach her hand out, then retract it. Jenny was a very warm person, who shared her emotions with her body. With a hug, a touch on the hand.

  “I ca
nnot go.” Meredith shook her head vehemently, her voice barely above a whisper. She was already seeing it. Leaving her safe haven and facing the ton—it was one of her worst nightmares come true.

  “You can.” Meredith knew Jenny wanted to take her hands but was holding back. “You’re stronger than you think, Meredith. And I doubt it will be as terrible as you think. Perhaps no one will even notice you’re there.”

  Any other lady would not pray for such a thing, not the way Meredith did. She shook her head again, turning away from the railing and walking back into her bedchamber. “I cannot. I will speak to Father about this and tell him that I will not attend.”

  “Only one ball, Meredith,” Jenny called from behind. Her voiced was tinged with desperation. “Only one ball and then you can tell your father that you do not wish to attend any other.”

  Meredith paused. Her father had said he only wanted to protect her image, to change it from a recluse. Certainly, all it would take is to attend one ball?

  She went over to the vanity table, hesitating to look. When she raised her eyes to the mirror, she saw her mother and her heart wrenched. She resembled her so much—the same golden hair, the round, brown eyes, the heart-shaped lips. Her beautiful, spirited mother who had lived for adventure, who’d had her life taken from her right before Meredith’s eyes.

  When she looked at herself in the mirror, she did not only see her mother, but she saw her death as well. She saw the terror and she heard the screams and she saw her mother’s eyes drift closed, never to open again. When she looked at herself in the mirror, Meredith saw the girl she’d once been, much like her mother. Someone who had been adventurous, out-spoken, and energetic. In her now tortured eyes, the past was the only thing she could see.

  “Very well,” she said, so low that she wondered if Jenny heard her. “I’ll attend the ball.”

  Chapter 3

  Meredith wanted nothing more than to jump from the carriage and run.

  Lady Millson’s ball was much too loud and much too full with people. Meredith had not even entered yet and she was already tensing in trepidation. She tried to channel all those negative feelings to a central point, her fingertips. She pushed her fingers against it each other, scratched at the tips with her nails. It kept her from biting her lip.

  “Meredith, you will be fine,” came her father’s voice. She didn’t look at him. Of course, he would say such a thing. He only wanted her to feel better and while she appreciated the thought, it didn’t help.

  She continued to watch the driveway leading up to Millson House grow shorter and the noise grew louder. The ballroom was next to the gardens, which was the only positive note in all of this. If things grew difficult, she could always escape out there. She could drink in the fresh breeze, the scent of the flowers, and listen to the creatures of the night rather than the music from the ball.

  The carriage came to a halt. Meredith’s heart pounded even harder. The door was opened and a footman helped her out. She pulled her hand away from him as quickly as she could.

  Her father stayed by the carriage as she was helped out by a footman. Meredith saw flickers of worry in his green eyes and she wanted to give him a smile, to tell him that she would be fine, even if she didn’t quite believe it.

  He only wants the best for me. At the very least, I should try to enjoy this night.

  Telling herself that didn’t help as much as she hoped, but she steeled all her resolve and walked alongside her father toward the ball.

  She was right. The entire ballroom seemed to explode with noise and vigor. The ball was in full swing, chatter warring with the music emanating from the corner of the large ballroom. Each lady added to the explosion of color within the ballroom and Meredith was suddenly happy she’d allowed Jenny to make the decisions regarding her gown for the night.

  Over the past few years, her father had made sure to regularly update her wardrobe. It was to little avail. Meredith wore nothing but black and grey, simple dresses that was not very befitting the daughter of an Earl. She cared little about how she looked, but she knew that sort of lackluster attitude would only make her stand out at the ball. She wanted to be the fly on the wall.

  So, Jenny had chosen a coral gown, one she claimed made her cheeks look rosier than usual. She’d drawn Meredith’s hair up in intricate curls, leaving tendrils framing her face. Similar hairstyles could be seen as she ventured into the thick of the crowd. Meredith wondered if Jenny had known that would make it easy for her to blend in.

  “How are you doing, Meredith?” her father whispered to her.

  Terribly. She could hardly breathe. Her eyes were close to swimming with tears and she blinked them away. “I am fine, Father,” she said.

  “Good. Now, be strong. Lady Millson approaches.”

  The warning gave her little time to prepare. Meredith looked sharply to the left, noting that there was indeed a lady making her way over to them. Meredith took a step back, using her father’s thin frame to shield her from view.

  “Lord Pebblebrook!” Lady Millson said loudly. Heavens, why did she have to be loud? She had a bright smile as she greeted Meredith’s father. “It is lovely to see you. I must say, I am quite honored that you and your daughter have chosen to attend my humble ball.”

  “There are many ways you can describe this event, My Lady, but humble is certainly not one way of doing so.” Her father had easily slipped into his usually charming self. He swung his arm around and pulled Meredith forward. She felt a sharp stab of betrayal. “I do not think you have met my daughter as yet, have you? This is Lady Meredith.”

  “How do you do, Lady Meredith?” Lady Millson said brightly, her eyes filled with interest.

  Meredith, to avoid her eyes, curtsied deeply and then took a step behind her father again.

  “You must forgive her,” said her father. “She is a bit shy.”

  “Oh, I see. Well, I’m certain her shyness will not last throughout the night. If there is anyone you would like to meet, Lady Meredith, do not hesitate to come and see me.”

  Meredith didn’t look up to see when she left. Regret coursed through her. She shouldn’t have come here.

  “Do not worry, Meredith,” her father said to her. “She is right. It will get easier.”

  “How do you know?” Her voice was just a whisper. She looked up to see her father staring down at her mouth, as if he was trying to read her lips. She spoke up. “How do you know it will be better?”

  “Because everything is difficult at first. You only need to keep trying at it and over time, you will be able to relax a little.”

  Meredith resisted the urge to shake her head again. She couldn’t believe it was that easy. It didn’t seem possible for her to simply go back to normal again, not after all she’d been through.

  “Look.” Her father touched her lightly on her arm, then jerked his chin toward the refreshments table. “That is Lord Foxinton and his daughter, Lady Clarissa. I have met her once before, when I visited their abbey. She is very kind. Perhaps you could make friends with her.”

  Lady Clarissa truly did look kind. It surprised Meredith. She’d never simply looked at a person before and assumed that they could not hurt a fly. She was quite pretty too, with white-blond hair and clear eyes Meredith could see from the distance.

  “You need only say hello,” her father urged. “She will handle the rest, I’m certain.”

  Meredith tightened her lips. She didn’t want to be alone all her life. She didn’t want to stay like this, weighed down by her crippling nervous condition. She wanted to be normal again.

  Her father might be right. This might be first step.

  “All right,” she said. She summoned all her courage, to take the first step. “I will.”

  “That’s my girl.” He patted her lightly on the shoulder, his pride evident in his voice.

  Meredith used the sound of that pride to carry her all the way to the refreshments table. She faltered a bit when she saw Lord Foxinton take a few steps away
from his daughter, engaging in a conversation with another lord. Then she kept going, not stopping until she was standing by her.

  “Good evening,” she said nervously.

  Lady Clarissa looked at her, brows lifted. “Good day,” she greeted, her voice tinged with surprise.

  Meredith stared at her, knowing that she should say something else but finding it difficult to speak. Finally, she managed it. “My name is Lady Meredith Cluett. The Earl of Pebblebrook is my father.”

  “Ah, the Earl of Pebblebook? I have met him. It is wonderful to meet you, Lady Meredith.” Lady Clarissa curtsied and gave her a wide smile.

  Meredith didn’t know what to do other than to return the curtsy. She truly did seem kind.