The Last Duchess (The Lennox Series) Read online

  He’s the Duke of Death and she’s his last chance…

  Michael, Duke of Blixford, was all Lady Jane Lennox ever wanted in a husband. Growing up with her gregarious widower papa and six raucous older brothers, Jane was drawn to the handsome, taciturn duke and purposefully set her cap for him. Unfortunately, despite his attraction to her, the duke was less than impressed with her unladylike skills, and after he ruined her, then proposed at the same time he called her his very last choice as his duchess, she fled to Scotland.

  To keep the ducal title and holdings from reverting to the crown, Michael needs a wife to give him an heir – but he doesn’t need to love her. Called the Duke of Death, a pariah said to have demon seed, Michael has lost three wives in childbed. His worst nightmare is following his father into grief driven madness after the woman he loved died. His iron discipline failed him four years ago when he succumbed to his fascination with Jane, and his fury was great when she jilted him. Now, she’s returned to London and, just as he is her only choice, she is his last chance.

  She’s determined to have a real marriage; he’s determined to hold her at arm’s length. But when the past catches up and old ghosts demand their due, Jane is devastated, and Michael risks everything to save his last duchess from permanent ruin. All he has to do is not fall in love.

  Copyright © 2013 Stephanie Feagan

  All Rights Reserved

  Publisher: Pink Publishing, LLC

  BISAC Code: FIC027070FICTION / Romance / Historical / Regency

  eBook: 978-1-940431-00-0

  Print: 978-1-940431-01-7

  Please Note

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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  Cover Design and Interior Format by

  The Killion Group

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  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

  About the Author

  Coming Soon

  DEDICATION

  For Michael & kat – They’re all for you.

  Acknowledgements

  Many thanks to Tanya Saari katz for her marvelous editing, and to lovely beta readers Sarah Evans, Brooke Kenjura, Kathy Gee, and Anita Learned. Thanks to Kim Killion for the beautiful cover design. And thanks to the Beau Monde chapter of RWA for being such a great resource of historical information and the minutiae of the Regency period I love so much. Any mistakes in this story are all mine.

  Chapter 1

  “Jane, he simply won’t do. The man’s a stick. Surely becoming a duchess can’t be that important. You’ve never shown the slightest interest in marrying for consequence.”

  Casting a look at her brother, Lady Jane Lennox pulled a face. “My interest in Blixford has nothing to do with rank. I happen to be madly in love with him.”

  Robert barked a loud laugh, startling her horse and sending the mare into a skittish dance across the road. Handling the beast with ease, Jane brought her back into line and frowned at Robert. “Laugh if you like, but there it is.”

  “When did you develop a tendre for the stick?”

  “Do stop calling him a stick. It’s the height of disrespect.”

  “There was a time you’d have agreed with me that he’s dry as toast and has all the humor of a graveyard. Please, Jane, rethink this and you’ll see how ill-suited you are to be his duchess.”

  Staring ahead, vaguely angry, she scarcely noticed the beauty of the narrow country lane, dappled with early-morning sunlight. Ordinarily, she’d have been invigorated by the clear air, the cloudless sky, the moist, heady scent of dew-laden, freshly cut hayfields stretching out to the north. But this morning, her mind was in turmoil, solely focused on one goal, allowing little room for appreciation of the glorious morning. “Is this lecture the only reason you asked me to ride early with you?”

  “Largely, but I also believe you could do with a bit of a respite from Lady Bonderant’s house party. I’ve watched you act the perfect lady for upwards of a week now, and it’s painful to witness.” His eyes were laughing at her. “You’re dying to run, aren’t you?”

  Of course she was, but admitting it didn’t seem wise. Robert was certain to pounce upon it as a method of illustrating how dour the consequence of her marrying the Duke of Blixford. “I shouldn’t say dying, but yes, it would be lovely to let this mare have her head.”

  “Very well, we will run, as soon as you explain how you came to fall wildly in love with the Duke of Dullford.”

  Ignoring Robert’s further insult of Blixford, she said, “Do you recall two summers past, before my coming out, when I went to visit Annabel during her confinement?”

  “I have recollection of a letter from Sherbourne mentioning your visit, as well as Annabel’s untimely death. I was still at Cambridge, so never learned particulars. Was it dreadful, Jane, being there when poor Annabel died?”

  “It was. She was a sweet soul, the heart of kindness.”

  “She was forever scolding us when we were children, do you remember?”

  Jane smiled, despite the sad memory of Annabel’s death. “Yes, and all the while, she was neck-deep in the prank herself.” Jane glanced at her handsome brother. “I always believed she had a sweet spot for you.”

  “And I for her, but it was doomed from the outset. I’m the youngest son of an earl with six sons, my title prospects dismal. Despite being well lined in the pocket, I was unsuitable for Annabel, whose mama set her sights quite high. She got her wish and Annabel became a duchess, but I wonder what cold comfort that must be to Lady Margaret now?”

  Remembering, Jane said, “She was overset in the extreme when she arrived at Eastchase Hall and realized her daughter was dead. For all our years of resentment toward Lady Margaret’s high-handedness and presumptuous manner, I’ve never felt such depth of sympathy for anyone. The entire affair was horrid and sad. Annabel was frightened when her labor began too early, and I, of course, knowing nothing of these matters, was at a loss. I sent for the midwife, as well as Blixford, who was in London, and Lady Margaret, who was to come a week later, to finish out Annbabel’s confinement, but she died before her mother arrived. All alone but for me, the midwife, and the vicar’s daughter, Bella. Blixford didn’t arrive until the following day, just in time to witness his wife and infant son entombed in th
e family crypt.”

  They rode in silence for a while before Jane finished her story. “He’s an outwardly cold man, not one to be demonstrative. I was put off by his manner during the service, astonished a man could bury his wife with such dispassion.” His face, she remembered, looked as though carved from granite. Even his dark eyes had held no warmth, no emotion. “At the conclusion of the service, he thanked me for my assistance, for my kindness in attending Annabel, and turned to leave, but before he walked out of the chapel, his gaze caught a spray of roses at the front. Roses were Annabel’s favorite, you know.” Turning, she looked earnestly at her brother. “Robert, I have never forgotten his expression. He was . . . bereft.”

  He was clearly unimpressed. “Bereft, indeed. I’d gather from his look he was severely aggravated that the heir he covets didn’t live. What you witnessed was not a husband mourning his wife, but a duke’s annoyance at losing his heir. It’s paramount he beget an heir, Jane. As the last male of his line, his titles, holdings, and wealth will revert to the crown upon his death. Centuries of Blixford dukes will fairly spin in their graves should he allow such a catastrophe. It is, I believe, why he’s here, at his sister’s house party. Everyone knows Blixford detests social events, yet here he is, attending a veritable stable of young ladies, yourself included, from which he will choose his next brood mare.” Robert nudged his gelding close and reached out to touch her arm. “I would wish much better for you, Jane. He can never love you, and I have my doubts that you love him. It is only your sympathy and frankly, imagination, that have captivated you. Please trust me about this, and set your cap elsewhere besides Blixford.”

  Jane listened to Robert, as she always did, and accepted his counsel for what it was; the concern of her closest brother, borne of love and respect for her. But she wouldn’t heed it. He didn’t understand, and she could never adequately express her reaction to that minuscule moment when the ducal mask fell away and she witnessed the man beneath. She’d never forgotten. Every suitor she acquired during her first Season was soundly rejected, solely due to her desire to marry Blixford as soon as he was ready to try again.

  That time was now, and she would not be dissuaded from pursuing him. Her chances were excellent, she thought. He seemed to pay particular attention to her, although he did appear to be impressed with Lady Letitia’s ability at the pianoforte. Jane was dismal at the pianoforte. She was also not adept at stitching, or painting, or idle conversation. Lady Letitia was a model of decorum. Jane was not.

  But she was of impeccable birth and great fortune, the only daughter of an earl. Her mother’s death and father’s refusal to take another wife meant she assumed the duties of a large household at a very early age. She was well qualified to step into the role of duchess, despite her failings in the drawing room. Blixford was bound to see this, and assuredly would offer for her within the fortnight, before the end of Lady Bonderant’s house party.

  “I’m truly confounded by this infatuation of yours. He’s six years your senior, a great lummox of a man, not considered handsome in the least. If you marry him, your brats shall all sport rather large noses.”

  Jane’s back went up. “I’m ashamed of you, Robert. How can you be so unkind? Yes, Blixford has a strong Roman nose, but it’s his best feature. Unique. Frankly, I find him quite attractive.” Much more than quite, but she could not say so to her brother. He’d keel over in a dead faint if she told him what her imagination had conjured during the previous week. Most definitely not ladylike. Low, common and terribly earthy. As for Blixford’s size, being on the tall side herself, she found his height and breadth intriguing.

  “I suppose he does cut a fine figure, but he positively glowers. I suspect he’s foul tempered, and you would dislike living with anyone not jolly.” He gave her a solemn look. “You should know our father feels as I do. He won’t stop you marrying Blixford, if indeed the man asks, but he won’t like it.”

  “Perhaps he won’t offer, and yours and Papa’s concern will be for naught.”

  “One can only hope.” He caught her expression and hastened to add, “I’m not being cruel, Janie. I would see you happy in marriage, and I’m convinced Blixford is incapable of making you anything but miserable. He would hide you beneath a basket with his foot firmly atop, and you would smother.” He nodded ahead. “He wouldn’t allow you to run.”

  “Ah, but he need never know. I’m here, now, about to beat you soundly to the end of the lane. Blixford is undoubtedly fast asleep and none the wiser.”

  She watched her brother closely. As usual, he heard only the challenge. Robert slowed his gelding and met her gaze, a wide smile lighting his face, his sober expression vanishing. “Ready?”

  “At your will.”

  He laughed, as did she, and they took off, thundering down the lane, neck and neck, shouting insults at one another.

  “Bloody sloppy, sir!”

  “Damned incompetent!”

  “Disgrace to horseflesh!”

  “You ride like a girl!”

  It was a splendid run, a welcome reprieve from the sedate riding she’d been forced to do all week. She would return to the house and dress for breakfast in a new morning gown. She would partake of her eggs and coffee, then change back into her habit and go for a ride with the others, prim and perfect. It would not feel so confining, because she had already had a run.

  She shouted at Robert, “Any slower and you’ll be a blasted statue!”

  “Poor loser!” He nudged ahead and she concentrated more fully on the race, laughing with exhilaration.

  ***

  From a bluff edging the southern end of the extensive formal gardens at Margrave Park, Michael Benedict Deveraux, twelfth Duke of Blixford, sat his horse and watched Lady Jane and her brother race down the lane edging a hayfield. She was a beauty; vibrant, filled with laughter and joie de vive. Hers was a nature of passion, everything in her life taken on with determination and single-minded purpose.

  For reasons Michael couldn’t fathom, she’d taken him on. He was amused by her attempt to cloak herself in a mantle of decorous behavior, to vie for his attention amongst the other young ladies his sister, Lucy, had invited to her late summer house party. Lady Jane was earnest in her pursuit of him and he admired her dedication, even if he had no intention of acting upon it. She was unsuitable for his needs, and the sooner she realized it and moved on to other possibilities, the better off she would be.

  “She’s in love with you.”

  Without glancing at his sister, who sat her horse beside him, Michael nodded. “Yes, I’m aware.”

  “She doesn’t care about the title.”

  “I know.”

  “Nevertheless, you won’t marry her.”

  “Not on a bet, Lucy.” He glanced at her and admired her seat. She’d always been an excellent rider. Nothing in the league of Lady Jane, but quite competent. “I recall you mentioned her while you visited me in London this past Season. I believe I told you we wouldn’t suit.”

  “How could you know, having barely met her? You refused to attend any functions, so you didn’t see her as I did.”

  “I don’t live in a cave. I’m well aware she was the toast of the Season, but I’m also aware she’s Sherbourne’s only daughter, raised with six older brothers. She rides neck-or-nothing and discusses unladylike subjects. She shoots pistols.”

  “Yes, I know,” Lucy said, a gleam in her dark eyes. “As I said, she’s perfect for you.”

  “You invited her, no doubt certain I would be unable to resist her after two weeks of constant company.”

  “How astute you are, and yet, how obtuse. Lady Jane would make a fine duchess, and make you extremely happy. I so wish to see you happy, Blix, to have something meaningful in your life that has nothing to do with sums and crops and shipping investments.”

  He turned his attention back to the race. “I intend to offer for Lady Letitia at the end of the week.”

  Lucy was quiet for a moment, watching Lady Jane and her
brother as they raced to the finish. “Lady Letitia will make a fine duchess, but she’ll never make you happy.”

  “It is not my aim to be happy. I need an heir, and an acceptable wife willing to provide one. My choice is adequate.”

  “Your choice is a woman whom you’ll never love. You can’t bamboozle me, Blix. You chose Annabel for much the same reason. For an educated, intelligent man, you can be annoyingly short-sighted.”

  “You married Bonderant because you loved him. Now you have lost him. Only last evening, you cried again. He’s been gone over a year, yet you continue to mourn him. Would you wish me the same misery?”

  Lady Jane won the race. He could hear her voice, carried on the breeze, just as her earlier very unladylike shouts had reached him. “By God, Robert, I may ride like a girl, but I have bested you, yet again. I demand you bow before my superior horsemanship, at once.”

  Robert was a good-natured sort, as were all of Sherbourne’s brood. He laughed and bowed in the saddle.

  She returned his laugh as they turned back toward the house.

  Lucy watched and murmured, “I don’t regret one moment I had with Matthew, and even had I known he would be taken from me far too soon, I’d marry him all over again. We had one glorious year of deep happiness and contentment. I have his son. I live in his house. His memory will never die. You see this as misery. I see it as honor and hope and something intrinsic I can’t name. Yes, I mourn my husband, but I’m far from miserable, Blix. Were you to marry Lady Jane, and if she were to die in childbed, as our mother did, as Annabel did, you would go on, and you wouldn’t be miserable. You’d be glad for the time you had.”

  Michael refocused on the riders along the lane. “She’s very beautiful, and spoiled by Sherbourne. She would most likely demand attention and distract me from my work.”

  “You should be distracted. You work too hard, Blix. Life is not meant to be lived riding the farms and toting up accounts.”

  “It’s been my life since our father died, Lucy.” He glanced toward her and lifted a brow. “There was a time when you didn’t mind my working so hard. Your coming out was not inexpensive, and I spared nothing to see you had an excellent Season.”