An Urgent Kiss: A Regency Historical Romance

Book 6: Captivating Kisses

by Alexa Aston

Genres: Historical Romance; Regency Romance; Regency romance; England; Regency Historical Romance; Alexa Aston; Captivating Kisses

Synopsis

An earl who intends to see his sister settled in marriage. A lady making her delayed come-out. A relationship that moves from enemies to love . . .

Hugo Drake, the Earl of Merriman, stammered severely growing up. Only as a university student did he begin to find ways to control—and even conquer—his stammering. He still practices daily to keep his stuttering at bay. Now, he attends his first London Season, helping to launch his sister into Polite Society, hoping to settle her into marriage.

Lady Thermantia Worthington's three siblings have all made love matches, but Tia is not interested in love or marriage during her come-out Season. She simply wishes to enjoy the social swirl of events and is eager to make friends. She finds a loyal one in Lady Dilly Drake, but Dilly's older brother believes Tia is a bad influence upon his sister.

As the Season progresses, Hugo and Tia's combative relationship becomes confusing for them both, thanks to a kiss they share, which arouses both physical feelings and strong emotions for each. Then bullies from Hugo's past strip him of his newfound confidence, and the ton is quick to judge the stammering earl.

Can Hugo and Tia shake off the confines of Polite Society and find lasting happiness together?

Find the answer in bestselling author Alexa Aston's An Urgent Kiss, the sixth book in Captivating Kisses.

Each book in Captivating Kisses is a standalone story that can be enjoyed out of order.

Series Order:
Book #1: An Unexpected Kiss
Book #2: An Impulsive Kiss
Book #3: An Innocent Kiss
Book #4: An Unforeseen Kiss
Book #5: An Enchanting Kiss
Book #6: An Urgent Kiss
Book #7: An Unforgettable Kiss
Book #8: A Promising Kiss
Book #9: A Possessive Kiss
Book #10: An Irresistible Kiss

Read more

Release date: February 6, 2026

Publisher: Dragonblade Publishing, Inc.

Print pages: 237

Sample

PROLOGUE

Merrifield, Norfolk—1793

 

As the carriage carried Hugo Drake closer to home, he felt his belly knotting. He was returning from his first year away at school, which he felt he’d been fortunate to survive. While he had enjoyed the academics offered and thrived, especially in maths and geography, the rest of his experience had been abominable. His contact with his fellow students had been even worse than he had imagined, their ridicule and taunting leaving him an emotional wreck.

He knew he was different from others. The stammer marked him thus. He had stammered for as long as he could remember. He would know what he wished to say, and yet it simply would not come out of his mouth, leaving him mute. Or he would become stuck on a word, repeating the beginning of it over and over and over until others laughed—or shamed him. Though he had longed to do so, he had made no friends at school. Now, he dreaded coming home because he would be berated by his father.

Other boys had their fathers—and sometimes even their mothers—come and retrieve them from school at the end of each term. Hugo’s escort home had been a surly footman. Even his father’s servants looked down upon him, despite the fact he was the heir apparent to the Earl of Merriman. His life stretched out endlessly before him, and all he could see was the misery to come.

The carriage arrived a little after half-past seven that evening. It was still light outside, and Hugo wondered if he would be called into his father’s study. A part of him wished the meeting would be over and done, but the other half hoped it would be delayed until tomorrow morning, allowing him a brief respite. At one point, his parents had gone away to town for the Season each year, but his father remained at his country seat most of the year now.

When the vehicle came to a halt, dread rippled through Hugo. The door opened. He hesitantly went down the steps which had been placed by the footman, making his way to the front door, where Storey regarded him with disdain. The butler was a close confidant to Hugo’s father. Since the earl despised his son, so did the butler. He promised himself when he became the earl, he would rid the house of this man and any other servant who had disparaged him in words or deeds.

“Lord Merriman will see you tomorrow morning,” Storey said brusquely.

Not a word of greeting, which was exactly what he had expected. Hugo was hungry, but he knew Storey would never think to feed him, and Hugo was too proud to ask for anything.

“Be in his lordship’s study at nine o’clock,” the butler added, walking away.

He wondered where Mama was. At one time, she had tried to champion him to his father, but she had long ago been beaten into submission. She no longer had the strength or will to defend herself, much less a stuttering son. Still, he loved her and headed to her rooms, hoping to find her awake. Oftentimes, she escaped into sleep. Hugo could not blame her.

Knocking softly, he opened the door and entered, closing the door behind him. She had a small sitting room which came before her bedchamber. He moved through it, then eased the door open, finding her seated in a chair by the window.

She turned, her face softening as she caught sight of him, a rare smile appearing on her lips. “Hugo. My darling boy.”

He crossed the room to stand before her, savoring her embrace and the faint smell of lilacs, which always reminded him of her.

Pulling away, she clasped him by the shoulders and asked, “How was school? I am so sorry your father did not let you come home for any of the holidays.”

That had hurt the most, seeing the other boys leave to go home to loving families, while he remained with the tutors at school. Fortunately, they had left him on his own for the most part, so he had read late into the night, slept in, and then explored the school and the areas outside it to his heart’s content.

Knowing he could not lie to her now, though, even though he saw the sadness in her eyes, he replied, “Wh-wh-what d-do you th-think?”

Tears welled in her gray eyes, so like his, as she enveloped him in her arms again.

“My heart is heavy, waiting to hear your reply, my boy. You are such a kind, intelligent person. Was it simply awful?”

Feeling safe within these four walls, he was able to answer her with one clear, clean word. “Yes.”

She led him to her bed, and they both climbed upon it together. Her arm went about him as they talked over the school year. Hugo had learned when he felt safe, he could get more words out. They didn’t seem so muddled. He told Mama about the subjects he enjoyed. Books he had read and languages he had begun to study.

“My, it sounds as if you have grown not only taller, but also intellectually,” she said, kissing the top of his head. “But you must get some rest, my darling. So must I. We have to be at our best tomorrow.”

He knew the hidden meaning behind her words. They both needed to be well rested in order to have their wits about them when they were in the presence of the earl.

“I will s-see you tomorrow, Mama,” he said, crawling from the bed and heading upstairs to his own bedchamber.

His trunk awaited him, though no servant had unpacked its contents. He believed other households ran differently. That servants weren’t meant to be so rebellious or openly disrespectful. For a moment, he wondered if his father had issued an edict for servants not to wait on him. It did not matter. He had learned from an early age to be self-sufficient, and so he opened and unpacked the trunk, putting his belongings away.

Suddenly, his belly growled, rumbling in protest of not having eaten for many hours, but he pushed the thought aside as he undressed and slipped into his nightshirt. He climbed into bed and lay in the dark a long time, sleep evading him. The nights at school had been the worst of times, anxiety keeping him awake because he had never known when the other boys might come for him. Sometimes, they merely laughed at him or made fun of him, imitating his stammer and laughing riotously as they did so. Other times, though, they dragged him from his bed, beating him for the pure fun of it. They knew not to touch his face, however, and so he would go to classes the next morning, his body battered and tender from numerous blows. Hugo knew of the code of silence and never told on those who bullied him. He’d had no friends and doubted he would make even one during the school years ahead. Other boys would be afraid to be associated with him.

At least he was back at Merrifield. For the most part, his father would ignore him. He could go days—even weeks—without laying eyes on the earl.

Suddenly, he heard his door push open and knew it had to be Dilly.

Sure enough, his three-year-old sister appeared next to his bed. She reached out with chubby fingers and touched his cheek.

“Thank you for coming to see me, Dilly. Would you like to get into bed with me?”

She nodded. Hugo helped her up, and she snuggled against him, her warmth a comfort to him.

Dilly was actually Delilah. When she was born, Hugo had trouble saying her name. All he could get out was Dilly, and so that is what he called her—and what she called herself. Dilly was the one bright spot in his life, and he loved her completely, more than anything or anyone on this earth. She was also the only person he never stammered around. If only the world were full of Dillys, he might actually be normal.

With his sister by his side, Hugo finally fell asleep into a deep, relaxed sleep.

When he awoke, Dilly was no longer in bed with him. He supposed she had returned to her own bed so that she would not be scolded by her nursemaid. Kittrell had also served as his nursemaid, and Hugo could not recall one kind word ever spoken to him by her. Still, she was usually pleasant with Dilly.

At least water had been delivered to him the previous evening, and he used it now to wash before he dressed. He combed his hair carefully, wanting to look presentable when he met with his father.

Going down the hall to the schoolroom, he saw Dilly and Kittrell already there. He entered, mustering a smile, and said, “G-g-good m-morning.”

The nursemaid barely glanced in his direction, and he took a seat at the table next to his sister. A maid came in, bringing breakfast for the three of them. As usual, he ate in silence.

Dilly, however, talked quite a bit. His sister’s vocabulary and use of language had exploded since the last time he had been home. Thank goodness, she had not been cursed with the stammer which plagued him.

When they finished eating, Kittrell whisked Dilly away, leaving Hugo on his own. He wandered about the schoolroom, opening and examining a few books he had used in this very room when he’d had a tutor before he left to go away to school. He wondered if Dilly would also leave for school someday and hoped if she did, her experience would be better than his.

When the appointed time came, he ventured downstairs and stood in front of his father’s study, steeling himself before he knocked upon the door.

“Come.”

Just the sound of his father’s voice sent chills up Hugo’s spine.

Opening the door, he stepped inside, closing it behind him. He went and stood in front of the desk, his father’s eyes on the newspaper he read. Hugo stood a good quarter-hour, watching his father methodically turn the pages. His gut told him that the earl wasn’t reading the newspaper at all. That he was merely toying with his son, making him wait.

Finally, his father put the newspaper down and acknowledged his son’s presence.

“The headmaster wrote me a most interesting letter,” the earl began.

Panic shot through him. He had not known of this. He supposed the letter had been given to the footman who had escorted him home. Knowing not to speak, he simply waited for his father to tell him what he wished him to know.

The earl reached for the letter, which sat on his desk, and held it up. “He writes that you actually have a brain inside that head of yours. That your command of writing Latin and Greek is strong. He also praises your ability regarding mathematics.”

He couldn’t help but feel a bit pleased that his father had received good news about him, especially since everything else Hugo did seemed to disappoint the earl.

Frowning, his father continued. “However, he tells me that you made absolutely no friends and that your physical abilities and skills on the playing field are abysmal.”

When teams had been chosen, the captains aways argued over who would take Hugo, who was always the last boy left. He never understood why they spent time doing so because he never got in to play in a single game. He knew he was smaller than most other boys his age, but his stutter did not affect him physically. Apparently, though, all the other boys believed that it did.

“The headmaster also writes that your oratory skills are nonexistent.” His father snorted. “I would have expected as much.” Tossing the letter aside, his father’s gaze met his. “Do you understand how great an embarrassment you are to me? Why, I will never be able to show my face at my club in town because all my peers will have heard from their own boys what a waste of humanity you are.”

When Hugo stood mutely, the earl slammed a fist upon the desk. “Answer me, damn you!”

“Y-y-y-yes, Fa-fa-father. I kn-kn-kn-know th-that I embar . . . embar . . . embarrass you.”

Rage filled the earl’s face, turning it bright red, and he stood quickly, knocking over the chair he’d sat in.

“It is humiliating having a son such as you. Humiliating! My peers judge me because of your deficiencies. Your faults.”

Hugo knew what was coming. He had known all along, but there was no way he could ever prepare himself for what took place next.

“This is the second time I have had to live through this,” his father muttered, glowering at him.

Confusion filled him. “Wh-wh-what?”

“I spent my entire life being humiliated by my younger brother. He, too, sounded exactly like you did. Couldn’t get a word out without mucking it up. I was a laughingstock. I did everything I could to separate myself from him, even begging my own father to send us to different schools to spare me the shame. Thankfully, Papa did so.”

Hugo knew his father never would have defended his own flesh and blood. He was glad this unknown uncle had escaped being near the man before him, one who was cruel and heartless and had no love for his only son.

“And I have heard gossip that says his son is exactly as worthless as you are. An embarrassment to the Drake family name.”

It was interesting to learn that he had both an uncle and a cousin and that they both suffered from the curse of stammering. He had not known that it ran in families. It made him never want to have children of his own, simply because he would hate for them to go through the pain he already had—and would continue to endure.

“My father tried to beat the flaws out of my brother, and he proved to be unsuccessful.” An evil gleam lit the earl’s eyes. “I intend to meet with success, however.”

The next minutes were ones Hugo endured. The curses that came with each blow. The sting and then pain of the cane, which tore into his flesh. He did equations in his head, trying to escape from the reality as his father beat him bloody.

Finally, he collapsed on the floor, falling to his hands and knees, doubting he could stand on his own two feet without help. He imagined crawling from the study, through the house, and up several flights of stairs, thinking it beyond him, wishing he could die, here and now, and end his suffering.

He heard the cane being dropped into the stand where his father kept it. He knew a servant would need to be summoned to take him back to his room and wondered if his father would ring for one or let him lie on the carpet. He struggled to retain consciousness and then felt himself drifting away.

Eventually, the door opened. By then, Hugo was aware of his surroundings. He looked up to see his father motion to him on the floor.

“Get him out of my sight.” It amazed him that the earl’s tone was so cavalier, as if he were asking teacups to be cleared.

The footman lifted him at the neck, dragging him across the carpeted room. Once they were on the other side of the door and it was closed, however, strong arms scooped him up.

Tears blinded him as the footman carried him all the way to his bedchamber, the first time that had ever happened. Surprisingly, he was gently placed upon the bed.

Looking up at the servant, he saw it was not someone he recognized. And what surprised him most was that he saw sympathy in the man’s eyes.

“I will be back soon, my lord. Do not try to undress without my help. I will bring ointment and bandages and see to your wounds.”

He lay on the bed, crying because of the kindness in the stranger’s voice. Deliberately, he caused his mind to go blank, something he had much practice at doing. He did not think of the ordeal he had just undergone. Instead, he drifted, thinking of summer days walking through the woods at Merrifield. Wading in the stream, the breeze ruffling his hair.

When the footman returned, he began ministering to Hugo in a gentle manner. No servant had ever shown him such compassion. Only Dilly had ever been this gentle with him. Even his own mother had been too afraid of her domineering, rage-filled husband to behave in such a fashion.

“Wh-wh-what is y-y-your name?” he asked.

“Alfie,” the footman replied.

“Alfie,” he repeated, glad of the softness of the name. He had difficulty with hard consonants at the beginning of words, such as Bs and Ps, but Alfie seemed to roll from his tongue.

“W-w-w-will you g-g-get in tr-trouble? He-he-helping m-me?”

“If I do and am dismissed, so be it,” Alfie declared. He paused, studying Hugo for a moment. “I have heard the servants mention you, my lord. They said such terrible things. No one should be spoken of as they do you, especially those who should be serving you. They should be grateful to hold the position they do. I am here to let you know that I am not only your faithful servant. I also hope to be your friend.”

Hugo didn’t know it at the time, but Alfie would be his only friend for many years to come. What he did know was when he became the Earl of Merriman, he would make Alfie his butler. He knew this servant would help him be respected in his own household.

As the footman peeled away the bloody clothes and washed and dressed the raw, ferocious wounds, he thanked Alfie from the bottom of his heart, even as he vowed to someday conquer both his tormentors and the speech impediment which haunted him.

 

 

CHAPTER 1

Cambridge—1803

 

Hugo walked through the rooms which had been rented for him by Mr. Becker, a clerk to his father’s solicitor. He had arrived in London with instructions to see the family solicitor before making his way to Cambridge, only learning once he arrived that the man was too busy to see him. The solicitor had assigned one of his clerks to look after Hugo, and it had been Mr. Becker who had traveled with him to Cambridge, helping him to rent these rooms he would live in during his time at university.

Turning to face the clerk, he now put into practice things he had been working on his entire life. He took a breath and thought of what he wished to say, hearing the words in his mind.

“Thank you for helping me become settled, Mr. B-B-Becker.”

Hard constants at the beginning of words still gave him trouble, but after years of practice, he could speak more clearly and with less stammering than he had as a child.

“I was more than happy to accompany you to Cambridge, my lord,” Becker replied. “And if you have need of anything, please write to me. I know that I will be able to handle whatever matter you need addressed on your behalf.”

While at the solicitor’s office, Hugo had learned that he would receive a quarterly allowance, which would help pay for these rooms and his meals, as well as other incidentals. He had no intention of going back to Merrifield at the end of each term, as other university students would do. He intended to remain in Cambridge year-round until he took his degree.

It had been hard to say his goodbyes to Mama and Dilly, but he knew it was best to stay away from Merrifield and his father. The earl had not physically assaulted him in several years, not since Hugo had sprung to his full height, three inches over six feet. On the rare occasions he was called in to meet with his father, he hovered above the older man, knowing his size intimated the earl.

Once more, very methodically, he asked, “Do you have any p-plans to be a solicitor yourself?”

Becker smiled broadly. “I do indeed, my lord. I am most eager to become a solicitor myself, but I come from a most humble background. I learn daily, however, and hope to one day be able to practice on my own. Even if it is out of a very small office.”

Boldly, Hugo said, “When that d-day comes and I am the Earl of Merriman, I . . .” He paused, slowing down. “I will hire you myself.”

“You would?” Becker asked, incredulous. “I might serve as your solicitor?”

He nodded, collecting his thoughts. “When I b-b-become . . . when I take the title, I will make changes. M-m-many changes.”

In awe, the clerk said, “You have given me a worthy goal to strive for, my lord. Thank you ever so much.”

He smiled. “You have shown me kindness, Mr. B-Becker. You have l-l-looked me in the eye. Made me feel . . . comfortable.” Hugo was especially proud that he got out the word comfortable since it was so long. “Keep this b-between us.”

“Of course. I cannot thank you enough. Well, I should be off now so that you might settle in. I need to book a room for this evening and arrange to take the mail coach back to London tomorrow morning.”

Hugo thought on whether or not he should ask Becker to stay with him, and then decided it might be too much. “Have a safe j-journey.”

“Enjoy your studies, my lord. I hope you will have a wonderful time in Cambridge. Goodbye.”

After the clerk left, he spent time unpacking his trunk. It would be wonderful to be living on his own, without anyone underfoot. He hoped he would learn to relax more, and he certainly would practice speaking. That had been difficult to do while he was at school and others were constantly around him. Once his task was completed, he decided to go to the inn over the road for his evening meal. If he liked the food served there, he would frequent the place since it was so close.

He used the key Becker had given him and locked the door behind him, crossing the street and entering The King’s Arms. It was still a bit early for dinner, and the inn’s public room was only about a third full. Much more to his liking. Too many people and loud conversations disrupted his train of thought, and he found it difficult to communicate in those circumstances. He dreaded the day he would have to attend the Season and be thrust into a ballroom full of strangers, having to try to make conversation and dance, much less look for a bride. Thankfully, that was far down the road.

He sat at an empty table and ordered an ale from the barmaid who had appeared, and then he asked, “What is g-good here? To eat?”

She smiled. “Just about everything, my lord. We get many compliments on our beef and mutton dishes. The stews and soups also are reliable dishes to choose from. Are you a student new to Cambridge?”

He merely nodded.

“Well, you’ve come to the right place. Many of your fellow students dine here. What shall I bring you besides ale?”

“Choose f-f-for me,” he told her, and she gave him a saucy smile. Thankfully, she did not ask him about his stutter. Too many others boldly did, and he was often left without words trying to explain something which he himself did not fully understand.

She returned with the ale moments later, and he sipped it slowly, wondering what these next years would bring.

Then he heard his name called and tried not to react. If the caller thought he had been mistaken, he might leave Hugo alone. But he heard it a second time.

“Drake? I thought that might be you.”

Glancing up, he recognized the man who had come to stand near his table. Rising, Hugo offered the Duke of Reddington his hand.

Thinking hard, he said, “It is . . . nice to see you, Your G-Grace.”

“And excellent to see you as well, Drake. Mind if I sit with you?”

This would have been the only person welcomed at Hugo’s table. Reddington had been two years ahead of him in school, a duke since he was twelve years of age. Reddington had come across a group of boys practicing their usual cruelties upon Hugo, and the young duke had immediately put a stop to their bullying. He still could hear Reddington’s words ringing in his ears.

Do not touch him again—else you will have me to deal with.

Though the taunting had subtly continued, the physical abuse had stopped after the duke’s intervention. Hugo had been four and ten at the time. By the time Reddington graduated and moved on a few years later, the other boys left Hugo alone. Even the jeers had died down, most likely due to his new, tall frame. No one bullied him physically or verbally. It was as if they simply forgot all about him, and Hugo moved through his remaining years of school as a wraith, acknowledged by no one except his tutors.

“Have a seat, Your G-G-Grace.”

The duke did so and said, “Your speech is much clearer, Drake. My congratulations to you for mastering your stammer.”

He paused a long moment, trying to put the words together, and then said, “You helped me with that. Even though I still struggle. You m-m-made them leave me alone. I f-f-find when I relax and have no worries, I can speak without m-much of a stammer.”

“What will you study at Cambridge?” the duke asked. “Since I have not seen you before, I assume you have just arrived and are beginning your university days.”

“Mathematics.”

Reddington nodded. “I recall you were quite good at maths. Took several prizes, I believe, if I recall correctly. Well, good for you, Drake.”

The duke glanced up and waved. Hugo glanced over his shoulder and saw a man headed toward them. Immediately, he tensed. It was one thing to sit and try to have a conversation with Reddington. It was altogether something different with a stranger at the table. He tried to think of a quick excuse to leave, but the barmaid set his meal before him at that precise moment.

“Here you go, my lord.” Her eyes flicked to the duke. “What might I bring you, Your Grace?”

By then, the other man had reached them, and the duke ordered for the both of them. Hugo knew there was no way to escape now, and so he rose, as did the duke, ready to meet someone new.

“I believe the two of you might somehow be related,” His Grace said. “Hugo Drake, this is Anthony Drake.”

He looked at the newcomer and recognized a resemblance between them. They both had dark hair and similar facial features. Offering his hand, he said, “Nice to m-meet you.”

The other man smiled widely. “It is so good to meet you, Mr. Drake. I feel that we do have some relatives in common. Please forgive me if I seem too familiar. Might you be the Earl of Merriman’s son?”

Immediately, Hugo knew Anthony Drake must be the cousin his father had mentioned all those many years ago.

But what of his stammer?

“Have a seat, Drakes,” the duke said cheerfully, and they all seated themselves at the table. “Go ahead and eat, Hugo. I am going to have to call you Hugo and this one Anthony to keep the two of you separate. That means you should call me Matthew.”

“I c-c-ca . . . I . . . no. That will not d-do.”

“It will if I say it does,” Reddington said, a twinkle in his eyes. “It is not just anyone that I give leave to call me Matthew, but my wish is that you would do so, Hugo.”

He nodded mutely, shocked by this offer of familiarity with a man of such high rank. Then his cousin claimed his attention, and so he faced him.

“I am the earl’s son,” he said slowly. “I l-learned about you . . . years ago. You do not . . . stammer.”

“I do when I am tired,” Anthony revealed. “It has taken me years to conquer my stutter. I can help you do the same if you would like me to work with you.”

“How?” he asked, feeling helpless. “I have . . . found a f-few things to d-d-do over the years. I speak slowly. I think b-before about what I w-w-want to say.”

“Those are good things to do,” his cousin agreed. “I practice both. I have learned to slow down and not get too excited, else the stammer appears quickly. I also am mindful of what I say, sometimes choosing one word over the other because it is easier to pronounce.”

“Yes!” he said excitedly, his morale soaring, being in the presence of another kindred spirit for the first time.

The barmaid set down the others’ food and drink, and Anthony took a big swig of his ale.

“I am sincere in my offer. If you wish, I can work with you. I have taught myself things to do. Matthew helps me with some of them.”

When Hugo looked at him questioningly, his cousin said, “One thing is to read aloud daily. Just to yourself. The more you do so, the more comfortable you become with hearing yourself saying words correctly aloud. Then, for a quarter-hour each day, Matthew and I read aloud in unison together. I am comfortable in his presence, which is a key to squashing the tendency to stammer. Reading in unison with another has made a vast difference.”

“I would l-like to try that,” he said, hope building within him. His cousin had yet to stutter or stumble over any words, which thoroughly impressed Hugo.

Grinning, the duke said, “We also sing. Quite a bit.”

“S-s-sing?” he asked, puzzled as to what that had to do with stammering.

Anthony shrugged. “I am not certain why it helps. It simply does. I think because singing involves a lot of stops. You sing one phrase and wait a few beats before picking up with another phrase. I have learned to speak in small chunks of words. If you listen to me carefully, you can hear that I do pause after every few words. It may be something you might wish to practice yourself.” He paused. “Matthew and I sing every day. He has a pianoforte in our rooms.”

It did not surprise him that a duke would be so indulgent as to have a pianoforte while at university.

Enthusiastically, Reddington said, “I have always enjoyed playing a great deal. It soothes me. It is also an enjoyable way to pass my free time. Anthony is correct. When he sings, you never hear one stutter come from him.”

Hugo watched as the pair exchanged a glance, and Anthony nodded subtly.

Turning to him, the duke said, “We have a large set of rooms nearby. One bedchamber is empty now. A friend of mine completed his studies last term. We had not decided whether or not to replace him with a fellow student, but I believe that you would be a good fit for us, Hugo. What do you say?”

Disappointment filled him. “I j-j-just r-r-rented rooms today.”

“That is easy to remedy,” Reddington said nonchalantly. “There are always students looking for rooms to let in Cambridge. If your landlord cannot find someone to replace you—which I doubt—he still already has what he has been paid for the quarter, does he not?”

“I have . . . paid for three m-months.” He shook his head sadly. “I have n-no additional f-funds to pay you.”

“You do not need to pay me a farthing,” the duke said breezily. “My rooms are already paid for. In fact, Anthony pays me nothing toward the rent.”

“It is true, Cousin. I am at Cambridge on scholarship. I met Matthew in a seminar, and we became fast friends. He allows me to share his rooms at no cost to myself.”

“I . . . don’t . . .”

“You do not need to worry about a thing, Hugo,” Reddington assured him. “We shall finish our dinner and then go to your rooms. Between the three of us, we can have everything moved by tonight.”

They finished their meal, and the duke said, “Come down the way so you can see what you think. We are very close to The King’s Arms, and so we dine here often. Lizzy, the barmaid who waited upon us tonight, often serves us. She will even hold back special treats for us.”

They took him to a set of rooms on the same side of the street as the inn. It was just as they said. The duke’s rented rooms were large and airy. A pianoforte sat in a common room. Anthony insisted they sing at least one song to demonstrate to Hugo how therapeutic music might be to one who stammered. He had never sung before in his life, although he was familiar with the song which Reddington began to play for them.

He joined in singing, timidly at first, and then realized he wasn’t stumbling over his words. Beaming at them, he began to sing loudly in a rich bass.

When the song ended, the other two applauded his efforts, and Matthew said, “Bravo, Hugo! How do you feel?”

He grinned shamelessly. “Like a n-new man,” he declared.

“Success will not happen overnight,” Anthony shared. “It is going to take hours of practice on your part. Know that I, too, still have to think about what I say and not let words spill from me too quickly.” His cousin smiled. “But in time, I think you will be speaking most eloquently, Hugo.”

They returned to his rooms, and he quickly packed while Reddington went to visit with the landlord downstairs.

When the duke returned, he said, “Things are settled, Hugo. Your landlord had someone else with him when I went to see him just now. The young man was looking for a few rooms to let, and I informed him that these were now available. Your landlord returned your rental fees to me.”

Reddington handed the pound notes over. “It is yours to do with as you wish.”

“Won’t you k-keep this?” he pleaded.

“Absolutely not. I am the Duke of Reddington. I am made of money.” He paused. “What I am more in need of is a friend. I will be frank, Hugo. Having become a duke at such a tender age, every boy and man I met from that moment on was either afraid of me or fawned over me. I was rather lonely growing up because of that. I have made a good friend in Anthony. I believe you, too, will become my lifelong friend.”

When Hugo fell asleep that night, he was filled with hope.

For the first time ever.

 

 

CHAPTER 2

London—April 1808

 

Lady Tia Worthington was happier than she had been in many months. At this point last year, she and her twin sister were about to make their come-outs into Polite Society, something they had both looked forward to for their entire lives. Unfortunately, her father had collapsed and died suddenly on the eve of the Season. Mama had whisked them away from town so that they might do their mourning in the country at Millvale.

She had not spent a single moment mourning the loss of the duke. Her father had been a cold, distant man, ignoring his four children for the most part. Especially his daughters. The only one who had gained even a modicum of attention was her brother Val, who had succeeded his father as Duke of Millbrooke. Val had recently become a father for the first time at the beginning of March. He would bring his wife Eden and little William to town next week so they might attend the Season. Tia adored her new sister-in-law, a former governess, and William was fast stealing her heart.

She was eager to go this afternoon to take tea with her older sister Ariadne, who had wed Julian, Marquess of Aldridge, during her first Season. They had a daughter called Penelope, and Tia could not wait to see her young niece, who had recently begun to walk.

More importantly, she would finally get to see Lia today. Her twin had always been her closest friend, almost an extension of Tia herself. Lia had met Viscount Cressley while they had been visiting their aunt Agnes at Traywick Manor in the Lake District last autumn. Lia had fallen in love with Viscount Cressley, a neighbor, but they had left Traywick Manor and returned to Kent without anything resolved between the couple. Lo and behold, Rupert had shown up at Millvale with a special license and drafts of marriage settlements, along with his heartfelt declaration of love. He and Lia had wed in the village church at the beginning of December. They had stayed through Christmastime and then returned to Cumberland.

Tia had exchanged a few letters with Lia, but it was not the same as talking in person. That was why she was so ready to see her twin this afternoon when they met for tea at Ariadne’s. Her older sister had come up with what most of the ton would consider a most peculiar notion—bringing your children to town for the Season. Ariadne had talked to several of the ten cousins in their extended family, while Tia and Lia had spoken to the others. All ten had agreed with Ariadne and would bring their own children to town each year. That way, not only could parents spend more time with their offspring, but the new set of cousins would also be able to grow up in one another’s company and form strong bonds of friendship.

The only cousins who currently had children were Ariadne, Val, and Lucy. Lucy had given birth to her daughter Elizabeth a month ago. She and Judson, the Marquess of Huntsberry, had written and said they would come to the Season next year. For now, they wanted to have more time at home with their newborn. Tia suspected Val would have done the same if it had not been for her making her come-out. Her brother was very protective of all his sisters, and he had told Tia he wanted to be present this Season for her.

Dru, Lucy’s sister and the Countess of Martindale, was increasing. She and her husband Perry had decided to skip this Season altogether. Dru had written of how large she had grown and how travel was difficult for her. She promised her cousins she would come to next Season, though, and show off her new babe, which would arrive this coming July.

Two of the remaining cousins, Verina and Justina, were too young to make their come-outs, so they would not be in town with Aunt Agnes. Tray, their older brother, was finishing up at university, and he had shared that he would not come to town until next spring. The last of the cousins, Con, would be at tea today. Tia was very fond of Con and looked upon him as another brother.

Tia breakfasted in her bedchamber, since it was also her mother’s habit to do so. Once Val and Eden arrived in town, however, she would take the meal downstairs with them. She went and practiced the pianoforte for an hour after she ate, something Lia excelled at. Tia could play adequately. She might have even been better at the instrument if she weren’t so lackadaisical when it came to practicing. She liked hearing music when others played, but she had to concentrate too much on her fingering patterns when she played herself, which took the joy out of music for her. Mama had encouraged her to practice, though, simply because she would be expected to entertain when they had guests. She didn’t want to embarrass herself in front of others, so she had practiced the same three selections multiple times over the past month and would feel comfortable playing any of these compositions for guests.

She returned to her bedchamber, which seemed so empty without Lia sharing with her these days, and retrieved her bonnet and reticule. Tying the bonnet beneath her chin, she went downstairs and found Mama already waiting for her in the foyer. They had an appointment with Madame Laurent this morning. Even though Tia had an entire wardrobe made up for her last Season, gowns which she had yet to wear, Mama thought she needed at least a few new ballgowns for this Season.

It didn’t take long to reach the modiste’s dress shop, and they entered, finding only one other client seated. Tia thought the older woman striking in appearance. She had abundant black hair, which was graying at the temples, as well as very unusual gray eyes.

One of Madame’s assistants appeared and greeted them. “Good morning, Your Grace, Lady Tia. If you would like to come to the back, my lady, I will help you in your fitting today. Madame is already there with Lady Merriman’s daughter.”

She followed the assistant and caught sight of the other young lady being fitted for gowns. It was obvious she was the daughter of the woman seated in the shop because they favored one another so much. The girl had the same raven hair and gray eyes. Where the mother had an air of sadness about her, though, this girl looked extremely lively.

“I am Lady Delilah Drake,” the young lady said. “Please tell me that you, too, are making your come-out this Season. Are you as terrified as I am?”

Tia couldn’t help but laugh, already liking this young lady. “I am Lady Tia Worthington, and I, too, will be making my debut into Polite Society. It is so very nice to meet you, Lady Delilah.”

“I have tried to be friendly to a few other girls I have come across during my dress fittings,” Lady Delilah confided. “They did not wish to be friends at all.” Leaning closer, she confided, “In fact, one of them boldly told me that she would not be making friends with anyone making her come-out because she considered all those girls to be her competitors. She told me that she planned to land a duke, and nothing would stand in her way in doing so.”

Tia had not considered others in her come-out class as a threat and said, “Well, I am not looking for a husband this Season. What I am looking for is to make friends—and enjoy the many social affairs.”

Lady Deliliah’s eyes widened in surprise. “You are not looking to be wed?” Then she smiled. “Why, I find that quite refreshing.”