The Runaway Duchess
Read The Runaway Duchess Online
Authors: Jillian Eaton
TWO HEARTS,
ONE BURNING PASSION…
“Are you going to kiss me?” Charlotte asked.
In the dancing candlelight her eyes
were endless pools of shimmering amber. Gavin shifted closer and her eyes
widened, but she did not look away or fight to be free of him. He wet his lips.
The small motion drew her gaze to his mouth, and the naïve curiosity he saw
flicker across her face was nearly his undoing.
“Bloody hell,” he murmured. From
inside his chest his heart pounded and his pulse raced, as if he were an eager
school boy again about to lose his virginity. When had a woman affected him
like this, let alone a slip of a girl with fire in her hair and steel in her
eyes? Never. The answer was never. “Tell me to let you go,” he said roughly,
dragging one hand from the door to cup the delicate curve of her jaw.
“Why?” she whispered.
Why indeed? Throwing caution to the
wind, Gavin muttered a savage oath as he claimed her mouth with his...
The Runaway Duchess
is a work of fiction
All of the characters, organizations,
and
events portrayed in this novel are
either products
of the author’s imagination or
are used fictitiously.
Copyright © by Jillian Eaton 2013
http://www.jillianeatonbooks.blogspot.com
All Rights Reserved.
Except for use in any review, the
reproduction or utilization of this
work in whole
or in part in any form is strictly
forbidden.
Other
Titles by Jillian Eaton
A
Brooding Beauty
A
Ravishing Redhead
A
Lascivious Lady
A
Gentle Grace
The
Winter Wish
Praise
for Jillian Eaton
“Jillian Eaton is
definitely a new author that readers should look out for!” (Nina T, Goodreads)
“[A BROODING BEAUTY]
is full of drama and romance but also laughter and a light-hearted style of
writing that I really liked.” (Steffi, Swept Away by Romance)
“[A RAVISHING
REDHEAD] is my first book from this author and it won’t be the last. Once I got
started I couldn’t put it down.” (Laurie, Bitten by Paranormal Romance)
“Grab your e-reader
and settle in for a treat! [A LASCIVIOUS LADY]” (Lisa Wolff, Rogues Under the
Covers)
For Kasey ~
Wishing you a bright & brilliant
happily-ever-after, little sister.
TABLE
OF CONTENTS
London,
England
April
1815
“I
will not marry him.” Standing with her arms crossed and her jaw set,
twenty-one-year-old Charlotte Vanderley shook her head from side to side,
sending her unruly mass of red curls whipping across her face. “He is old and
grotesque and I would not want him if he were the last man on earth!”
“Pin
your hair up dear, you look like a heathen.” Unimpressed by her daughter’s
belligerence, Lady Bettina Vanderley sipped her tea and smoothed a wrinkle from
her skirts. Always impeccably dressed and well put together, nothing grated on
Bettina’s nerves quite like a coiffure that was loose or a stay that was not
pulled tight.
A
woman of quiet reserve and a spine of steel, she blamed every single one of her
gray hairs on Charlotte and often wondered what she had done so wrong to
deserve such a troublesome child. There was no denying the girl her beauty (and
for that Bettina took full credit) but as for everything else… Well, it was
well known the late Lord Vanderley had always been much too indulgent with his
only daughter.
And this
, Bettina thought sourly as she took in
Charlotte’s flushed cheeks and the rebellious gleam in her hazel eyes,
is
the result
.
Ignoring
her mother’s demand to tame her hair, Charlotte stalked across the parlor and
stared broodingly out the window to the street beyond. It was late in the
afternoon and as a result the notoriously busy London traffic had slowed to a
crawl. It would pick back up again once the supper hour drew near, but for now
all was quiet and uncharacteristically calm.
A
group of raggedly dressed young boys raced passed, disrupting the temporary
quiet with their loud, raucous laughter. They kicked a dirty red ball between
them and Charlotte released a wistful sigh when they disappeared from view.
What she wouldn’t do to be outside right now; to feel the sun on her face and
the wind in her hair. To be able to run and yell and do all the things proper
young ladies were never allowed to do.
Instead
she was stuck indoors with nothing to occupy her time save the thought of her
recent engagement to the horrible Duke of Tarrow, an old lecher thirty years
her senior who had already seen two wives dead and buried. Why he had need of a
third Charlotte was not certain for he had two living sons, the “heir and the
spare” as the saying went, and both were in good health. Why he wanted her in
particular she was even less sure. They had never even crossed paths until
three weeks ago when she nearly tripped over his cane at a garden party.
Flowers began arriving with her name on them by the dozens the very next day,
and she had been unable to shake him loose since, no matter how persistently
she ignored him.
Her
best friend Dianna was of the mind that the duke wanted another wife so he
could succumb to his “manly urges” whenever he pleased. Having read more than
her fair share of dime novels, Charlotte knew exactly what sort of “manly
urges” Dianna was referring to, and just thinking of the duke’s wrinkled hands
on her body made her sick to her stomach.
Now,
less than a month after their initial meeting, she woke to find herself engaged
to a man she despised. Suffice it to say, it was not a very good way to begin
one’s week.
“I
still cannot believe you allowed the announcement to be printed without my
permission.” Catching her mother’s frown out of the corner of her eye, she spun
in a half circle and tossed back her hair. “This is not the Dark Ages. If I do
not want to marry him you cannot make me!”
“You
are behaving like a petulant child.” Fluffing a hand through her auburn hair,
now streaked liberally with gray, Bettina straightened even further in her
chair and linked her hands together over one demurely crossed knee. “It is a
great honor to be engaged to a duke, especially one of such wealth and social
status.”
“I
do not care how titled or rich he is!” Charlotte cried. “I want to marry for
love, not money.”
For
the first time a hint of true annoyance flashed in Bettina’s dark blue eyes and
twin blotches of color appeared high on her cheeks. “You are a foolish girl
with foolish dreams who knows nothing of the real world or the perils that
exist within it,” she said scornfully. “One day you will thank me for this,
mark my words.”
“Well
it will not be today,” Charlotte declared dramatically before she spun smartly
on her heel and stormed out of the parlor, taking great satisfaction in
slamming the door behind her. The loud noise echoed through the silent town
house, startling a maid who had been making her way up the stairs, her arms
piled high with fresh linens. “I am sorry,” Charlotte said automatically and
the maid, a pale faced, quiet girl with long dark hair by the name of Tabitha,
shook her head and mustered a shy smile.
“Not
to worry, Lady Charlotte.”
“Here,
let me help you with those.” Bounding up the stairs, Charlotte whisked half of
the linens out of Tabitha’s arms and into her own.
The
maid darted a nervous glance down towards the parlor. “You know your mother
does not like you to help the staff, Lady Charlotte,” she whispered. “Do you
remember how upset she became when she found you planting bulbs with the
gardener?”
“What
she doesn’t know will not hurt her,” Charlotte said dismissively. “Are these
going to the closet on the third floor?”
“Yes,”
Tabitha said, her face drawn tight in apprehension.
Charlotte
sighed. The maid’s fear of being caught doing such an innocent thing as
accepting help was yet another reason she was constantly at odds with her
mother. Bettina was of the (popular) opinion that servants were to be neither
seen nor heard. She ruled her household with an iron fist and had been known to
fire a maid over the most trivial of grievances on more than one occasion.
Charlotte,
on the other hand, was of the firm belief that a person’s title – or lack
thereof – did not dictate who they were or how they should be treated. She knew
her views were considered outlandish by most, but she clung to them
nevertheless, and took every opportunity to help the overworked staff whenever
she could.
After
all, it was not their fault her mother was stingy with her coin and refused to
hire the adequate number of servants a town house of this size demanded. Having
a knack for figures, Charlotte knew her mother could comfortably afford four
household maids instead of the two currently employed and she felt a constant
sense of guilt that Tabitha and Rose were forever hustling from one chore to
the next with nary a break in between while she sat around day in and day out
wasting hours of her life on pointless embroidery patterns.
“Leave
my mother to me,” she ordered briskly, “and lead the way.”
With
one last, furtive glance at the parlor Tabitha hurried up the winding staircase
with Charlotte right behind. The moment they reached the third floor the maid’s
shoulders relaxed and she released the pent up breath she had been holding.
They
were now on the servant’s floor; the one place in her house Bettina would never
dream of entering.
Comprised
of a narrow hallway, two small adjoining bedrooms, one large linen closet, and
a washroom hardly big enough to stand upright in, the third floor was little
more than a finished attic. It was also where Tabitha and Rose lived, as was
common in most households of the nobility. In exchange for working day in and
day out the maids received a monthly stipend, but what they really worked for
was their room and board. Despite the long hours and grueling work it required,
being a maid was considered a luxurious position amidst the lower class,
especially if the family they worked for was well off. It meant a roof over
their heads and food in their bellies, two things which were in alarmingly
short supply out on the streets.
“Thank
you, Lady Charlotte,” Tabitha said once all of the linens were put neatly away.
“That was very kind of you.” Tucking up a stringy piece of dark hair that had
come loose from her cap, the maid managed another small smile, although she
kept her gaze carefully averted, no doubt the result of being told never to
look a member of the peerage directly in the eye as it was seen as a sign of
insubordination.
Time
and time again Charlotte had attempted to draw Tabitha out of her shell, but
the maid was too terrified of losing her job to ever risk befriending her
employer’s daughter. It was with some surprise, then, that Charlotte felt
resistance on the back of her skirt as she turned to leave. “Yes?” she asked,
her brows knitting together in puzzlement when she saw Tabitha had purposefully
stepped on the train of her dress to detain her. “Is there something else you
need help with?”
The
maid’s face was pale and her lips trembled as she struggled to form words. “I…
May I speak frankly, Lady Charlotte?”
“Of
course. Please say whatever you like, Tabitha.”
It
appeared that was all the urging the maid required. “If I were you I would not
want to marry the duke either,” she said in a rush. “He is a wicked, wicked
man. Servants talk, and I have heard… Oh,” she gasped, her eyes darting from
side to side as if she feared the thin plaster walls had ears. “I don’t know if
I can repeat it.”
Charlotte
grasped Tabitha’s slender arm and squeezed. “Tell me everything you know,” she
said urgently. “Please, Tabitha.”
The
maid’s temporary surge of courage withered. “I cannot, Lady Charlotte.” She bit
her lip and hunched her shoulders. “Someone might hear.”
“Who?
My mother is still downstairs and the last I saw of Rose she was in the kitchen
cutting up carrots for Cook. If you were ever to tell me something now is the
time and this is the place. I will not tell anyone I heard it from you. I
promise.”
But
Tabitha only gave a quick, fearful shake of her head and remained silent.
“Very
well.” Not wanting to bully the poor girl into giving up her secrets, Charlotte
released her arm and gently asked, “Is there somewhere else you would feel more
comfortable speaking? Somewhere you will not be afraid of being overheard?”
“Do
you know where Twinings is?”
“Next
to the park? Yes, of course.”
“Could
you meet me there tomorrow? At noon?”
Charlotte
had no idea why Tabitha would find more comfort in divulging her secrets at one
of London’s busiest tea shops, but she nodded in agreement nevertheless. If the
maid truly did have damning information about the duke she needed to hear it,
and soon. Considering how fast her mother had managed to have their engagement
announced in the papers, she shuddered to think how quickly she could have a
wedding arranged.
“Will
you be able to get away from the house?”
Tabitha
nodded. “Tomorrow is errand day. Her ladyship will not expect me back until
late in the afternoon.”
And
Charlotte already had an idea of how she could escape without arousing
suspicion. “Very well. Tomorrow it is.” Feigning a bright smile, she passed a
hand through her curly locks, sweeping the fiery red mass over one shoulder.
Her thick hair really would be easier to manage in a tight twist or even a
braid, but since she knew having it unbound irritated her mother she wore it
down as often as she dared. “Do you need help with anything else?”
“No,
Lady Charlotte. You had best be on your way now.”
Charlotte
nodded and headed for the stairs, secretly eager to return to the second floor.
It was sweltering in the attic and she could feel a line of sweat making its
way down between her shoulder blades in a slow, uncomfortable trickle.
“Wait!”
Tabitha called out abruptly.
She
paused, the toe of her shoe hovering in mid-air above the first step. “Yes? Is
there something else?”
“I
know it is not my place, but I… that is to say… you should not be alone with
the duke.” Tabitha spoke so quickly that her words came out in one long, nearly
indecipherable stream:
Youshouldnotbealonewiththeduke
.
Taking
out a daintily embroidered handkerchief from the pocket of her dress, Charlotte
dabbed at her perspiring brow. “Not to worry. I have no intention of ever
seeing that man again, let alone being caught in the same room with him. I
would rather die first.” Smiling in what she hoped was a reassuring manner, she
picked up her skirts so as not to trip over the long hem and hurried down the
stairs, taking the narrow steps two at a time.
Left
alone in the attic, Tabitha closed her eyes and said a quick prayer. “Yes,” she
whispered, “that is exactly what I am afraid of.”