Winning her duke, p.1
Winning Her Duke, page 1
Winning Her Duke
Scots and Scoundrels, Book 1
Allison B. Hanson
© Copyright 2024 by Allison B. Hanson
Text by Allison B. Hanson
Cover by Dar Albert
Dragonblade Publishing, Inc. is an imprint of Kathryn Le Veque Novels, Inc.
P.O. Box 23
Moreno Valley, CA 92556
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Produced in the United States of America
First Edition February 2024
Kindle Edition
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All Rights Reserved.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
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Additional Dragonblade books by Author Allison B. Hanson
Scots and Scoundrels Series
Winning Her Duke (Book 1)
Discovering Her Earl (Book 2)
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Publisher’s Note
Additional Dragonblade books by Author Allison B. Hanson
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
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Epilogue
Excerpt from Discovering Her Earl
About the Author
Chapter One
April 1811
Another painful groan filled the carriage as Gia Landon squeezed her father’s hand. Viscount Waverly had always been a strong man, facing an ague or a chill without complaint. It meant whatever ailed him now had to be substantially worse. Not that Gia knew specifically what was ailing him.
“Hold on, Papa. We’ll be there soon,” she encouraged as he moaned and pressed a hand to his stomach. “Please be all right,” she whispered frantically.
Her father settled and patted her hand, “I’m sure I’ll be fine, love.”
“Doctor Flannery seemed to think it was quite serious. Why else would he have suggested we take you to London straightaway to see a surgeon?”
Her father offered a sound of dismissal. So like a man to think he was invulnerable to mortal illnesses.
“Country doctors don’t know anything,” he complained.
“Then perhaps we don’t need to—” Her suggestion to return home to Elmhurst Manor was cut short by another loud moan. “Maybe we should stop somewhere—”
“Flannery said I needed to be taken to London.”
“Yes,” Gia said, refraining from pointing out that either the doctor was right that it was quite serious, or he was an inept country doctor who didn’t know what he was talking about. Perhaps her father’s mind had muddled from fever.
Except when she touched his forehead, his skin was dry and only slightly warm. Surely a good sign there was no infection. Not that she knew if there was cause to worry about infection.
In fact, she’d been sent from the room as Dr. Flannery examined her father and had not yet gotten the details of his ailment despite asking both men more than once.
The doctor hadn’t been able to look her in the eye when he’d explained it was dire, and that her father was to be rushed to London from their home in Surrey immediately. She hadn’t even taken the time to have her maid pack a bag.
Gia patted her father’s arm.
“Try to get some rest. We’ll be there soon.”
He nodded and quieted as they sped along toward London.
London. The very thought nearly caused her to cry out in pain alongside her father.
Despite the fact Waverly Manor was only a day’s ride to London, she had been there only once. During her come out at eighteen.
She found she was just as reluctant to return now as she’d been the last seven years. Each year her father had encouraged her to go to town and enjoy the Season, and every year she’d managed to resist. Instead, staying at home with her beloved horses.
Unfortunately, she had no choice now. Her father was the only family she had, and she would go anywhere and face anything to help him.
He was resting easy when they pulled up in front of an elegant townhouse.
“Is this the surgeon’s home?” she shouted up to the coachman as a liveried footman came from the house to assist her from the carriage. The coachman, like the doctor, didn’t meet her eyes as he simply murmured something about following orders.
“Please be careful with the viscount. You may want to retrieve a litter to carry him,” Gia was saying to the footmen as her father stepped down from the carriage under his own power. “Father?” She turned a curious look on him.
He howled in pain and with his hand pressed to his stomach, he allowed the footmen to guide him into the house where the door stood open.
“Welcome to Tomison House. Please take him into the drawing room,” the butler greeted them as if not noticing the wailing man who desperately needed medical attention.
“He needs to see the surgeon right away,” Gia explained.
“The doctor has been called.” The comment came from an elegant woman, maybe ten years older than Gia, as she descended the stairs. “How is he?”
“He appears to be in a great deal of pain, though at times, he seems to be improved. Apparently, it comes and goes.”
The woman frowned. “Yes. I’m sure it does.”
In the drawing room, her father made the introductions while reclined on a settee with a glass of brandy a servant had brought him. “Gia, this is Lady Tomison. Her late husband and I were good friends. Lydia, this is my daughter Gia. You might remember her from when we were in town years ago.”
Gia curtsied to the woman whom she did not remember. She’d done her best to block out all memories of her time here.
“Of course. Please call me Lydia. I’m pleased you’ve come to stay.”
Her father cleared his throat and Lydia let out a deep breath.
“That is, I wish it could be under better circumstances.”
Gia didn’t know the woman well enough to be certain, but Lydia looked rather annoyed with her father. Was she upset that he’d been brought to her home to be tended? Gia hardly had a chance to form the thought before an older gentleman with unruly, white hair and a leather bag was shown into the room.
Thank goodness, the doctor had arrived.
“Let’s take a look.” The man got right to business.
“We should have the ladies leave us,” her father said.
“Papa, no. I want to—”
“Yes, yes. Off you go. I’ll report back to you straightaway,” the doctor said with a dismissive wave of his hand.
Gia squared her shoulders, prepared to argue when Lady Tomison intervened.
“Come. Let’s leave them. I’m certain your father will be much improved very soon.” Was the woman glaring at Gia’s father?
Once they were in the hall, the woman transformed into the welcoming host one would expect when arriving for a visit rather than a dire medical emergency.
“I’ve put you in the garden room,” she said as she ascended the stairs with a grace Gia had never accomplished. “You
r father mentioned you enjoy painting, and that room has the best light.”
“Thank you, but I’m sure we won’t be staying long. Once my father is diagnosed, we will certainly return to Elmhurst. He will be more comfortable recovering at home in the country.”
The woman said nothing, and Gia felt the need to continue her babbling.
“I don’t even have a change of clothes, and I have horses to tend to.” Though Owen, her stable master, and her small army of grooms would manage in her absence.
When they arrived in the Garden Room, Gia gasped. Not just because the room was beautiful with its floral wallpaper and a wide window that would bring in the light Lydia mentioned. But because on the bed sat a familiar portmanteau.
“I’ll have Jessie see to putting away your things until your maid and trunks arrive.”
“My maid and—”
“Please let me know if you need anything else. I’ll have dinner served within the hour. I’m sure you and your father are famished from your travels.”
Gia wanted to point out that her father couldn’t possibly eat dinner in his condition, but Lydia was gone before Gia could argue or ask how her items came to be packed when they’d left in such a hurry.
Something wasn’t adding up.
Jessie came in then and helped Gia get ready for dinner.
When Gia arrived in the dining room, her father was seated at the head of the table as a guest of his title was expected to. Lydia sat at the other end and another seat was placed beside her father, presumably for her.
“Father?” Gia rushed toward him as he stood, to help him if needed. But he was steady on his feet and wearing a different set of clothes she recognized as his own.
“I’m perfectly fine now. Not to worry. In fact, I believe I will benefit from this wonderful meal Lydia has summoned for us.” Her father helped Gia take her seat before returning to his own, looking as healthy as ever.
He was an attractive man for his age. Perhaps a little thicker in the middle than when she was younger, but not to the point of being soft. His chestnut hair had grayed only at the temples. She knew the ladies back in Leigham fluttered around him like girls, and he did nothing to stay their attentions.
“I don’t understand,” Gia said while studying him. “You were ill and we raced to London…”
“And the good doctor gave me a tonic to restore my humors. All is well now.” He patted her on the hand.
Lady Tomison made a noise but affected a perfectly innocent expression when Gia turned to look at the woman. Something was going on here, but there was only one thing that mattered now.
“We can return home.”
He paused with a wine glass inches from his lips and offered a placating smile.
“We don’t need to be hasty. Perhaps we should give it a few days to make sure the restorative continues working.” He sent a sneaking glance to the other end of the table.
“Of course,” Lady Tomison said dryly. “You are welcome to stay as long as you’d like. I am more than happy to offer my assistance to provide proper attire for your daughter. Ballgowns, perhaps, my lord?”
“Uh… well… yes. I suppose if we are to be in London for any length of time during the Season, it makes sense that we attend a few events.” He waved his hand as if the events he’d spoken of were trivial.
Gia took in the exchange silently. As the seconds ticked away on the enameled clock sitting on the mantel, everything fell into place.
“Papa?” she said through clenched teeth.
“Oh, bother,” her father winced, though not in pain this time since he’d apparently given up the charade.
“You lied to me. Tricked me into coming to London for the Season?”
Her father’s face confirmed her suspicion, but he at least had the decency to answer her question.
“Yes, sweetheart. I did.” He straightened his shoulders and offered a firm nod. “It’s time you found a husband.”
“A husband?” She’d thought her father had given up on this crusade years ago and had accepted she was content living at their estate, breeding and training horses. Her horses provided all the happiness she could ever want. And in the country, she was free to be herself. Without being reminded of her failure years ago when she’d attempted to follow the path of every other young lady and find a match.
“It is time. You cannot hide away in the country any longer,” he said, pain and worry threaded through his voice. She wouldn’t allow it to sway her anger.
“You shall pay dearly for your deceit,” Gia nearly hissed her threat.
Lydia chuckled at the other end of the table.
“Oh, this will be great fun.”
Chapter Two
Jeremy Hale, Duke of Roxburghe, leaned against a pillar in the Marksley ballroom and effected a look of disinterest that worked well to keep everyone at bay. If his look didn’t adequately secure his privacy, he need only to greet the intruder with his thick brogue to make them scurry back to safety.
It had been an efficient and amusing strategy in the past.
By now, the only two people who might venture into his space and disrupt his peace were his best friends and unfortunately, they had yet to arrive.
As soon as they did, Hale would join them in the card room. Or perhaps they would leave the affair altogether in favor of some other entertainment.
Hale had worked hard over the years to build a notorious reputation as a rake in order to scare off innocent debutantes and their hopeful mamas. His size and general somber countenance had earned him an air of danger. While only the most desperate woman would brave enticing the Scottish barbarian, he was still a duke and therefore a candidate for a match.
The fact that not everything whispered about his reputation was true, didn’t matter. The only thing that was of any significance in London was perception.
And he chose to be perceived as dangerous and unmarriageable. While the first was a stretch, the latter was highly probable.
Like many men of his age and title, Hale didn’t want to marry. And like every other man with said affliction, he had good reason to feel that way.
Many of his cohorts chose to avoid the parson’s trap because they preferred living the life of a scoundrel. Hale did not fall into this category. Nor did he fit in with the men who had loved and lost, loved and been betrayed, or loved and simply changed their minds.
Jeremy had never loved or been loved.
By anyone. Ever.
His mother and father had hated each other with a passion only rivaled by their individual hedonistic endeavors. Hale had met his father just twice before he’d died when Hale was just sixteen. Both times had been by accident when his father had planned house parties on the same country estate on which he currently resided.
Hale understood the confusion. After all, he was moved from estate to estate at random either because one of his parents needed the house and wanted him out of the way, or because they worried Hale would become too attached to the staff.
It was for that reason, Hale’s tutors and governesses had been changed out repeatedly as well.
Somewhere in all the confusion of where Hale was living and with whom, it must have also escaped his parents’ notice that their son had reached the age boys went off to school. Because of this, Hale did not start George Heriot’s School in Edinburgh until he was four and ten.
But despite his late start, it had changed his life. He’d made his first friends and they remained his friends to that day. Even though they were excessively late to this bloody social event and would be one man short.
It still seemed odd, a year later, that Ethan was gone. On his deathbed, he’d called each of them into his room privately. Hale didn’t know what the other men had discussed, but Ethan had forced a promise from Hale, that he find his passion.
Hale hadn’t been sure what his passion was until a few months ago when he purchased a racehorse with plans to train, race, and breed him.
He cleared his throat as the music began and the first group of dancers took the floor. He rather enjoyed dancing, but to ask any of the ladies in the room to dance would be perceived as interest and expectations would be inevitable. Followed by disappointment.
It was better to stay on the peripheral. The dangerous duke to be avoided.
The biggest fraud of all was that Hale wouldn’t actually mind having a companion. To have someone to spend the rest of his life with sounded rather pleasant after a life alone. To have a constant friend who would never leave him would be the perfect cure to heal the boy in him who had never had anyone.
