My Secret Duke

by Sara Bennett

Genres: Sagas; Women's Fiction; Family Life

Synopsis

The second exciting romance in a sweeping new Regency series—perfect for fans of USA Today bestsellers Sophie Jordan and Kerrigan Byrne!

Release date: April 1, 2025

Publisher: Grand Central Publishing

Print pages: 384

Sample

Two weeks later, Ashton House

Mayfair, London

The girls were huddled together in Olivia and Justina’s bedchamber. Edwina was trying not to bounce on the feather mattress as her big blue eyes slid from sister to sister. There were six of them altogether, ranging in age from twenty to five, and despite the Ashton town house having many rooms, all six of them were in this one.

“Is Grandmama speaking yet?” one of them asked Olivia, deferring to her as the eldest sister. They had been tiptoeing around their grandmother, the Dowager Duchess of Grantham, ever since their half brother, Gabriel, had rushed off to Cornwall. Apart from one furious outburst from the dowager, there had been nothing since but an icy silence. She kept to her rooms, her meals carried up on trays by nervous-looking servants, and refused visits from anyone, including her granddaughters.

Especially her granddaughters.

Olivia could understand it. The dowager had discovered the girls had been coconspirators in Gabriel’s decision to set off after Miss Vivienne Tremeer, with the goal of asking her to marry him. The very woman Grandmama had warned him against because of her tarnished reputation and unsuitable family. The dowager had already decided that the perfect wife for Gabriel was the Earl of March’s daughter, Lady Edeline, and she had believed Gabriel had been convinced. Why should he not be when the beautiful and blue-blooded Edeline would ensure the Ashton family’s return to respectability, sweeping their scandals beneath their threadbare carpet?

And their scandals were numerous.

Harry, the former duke, had married his mistress, Eugénie Cadieux, and then kept it hidden when he went on to marry Lady Felicia. Therefore, Gabriel, the “bastard” son of Eugénie, was now the legal heir, while the six daughters of Felicia had no legal standing. Gabriel had agreed to take his half sisters on, as well as an estate that was groaning under the weight of his father’s and grandfather’s debts. The dowager had thought she could influence him—or bully him—into doing what was best for the family, especially after Olivia created a scandal of her own. But Gabriel was not a man to be forced for long into doing something he didn’t want to, and once he fell in love with Vivienne, that was it for him.

“You shouldn’t have told him to follow Miss Tremeer to Cornwall,” Georgia said in a prim voice. She was eight years old, the youngest sister but one, and a stickler for “doing the right thing.”

Olivia’s eyes blazed. “What? And let him marry that insipid Edeline? You agreed Vivienne was perfect for him! We all did! And remember how miserable he was, all that walking in his sleep because his mind was disturbed? Besides, he had already decided to go after her, he just needed to know we were on his side. Gabriel will be happy now, and so will Vivienne. And once Grandmama gets to know her properly, I’m sure everything will be comfortable again.”

She broke off then because so far, the dowager had shown no signs of softening when it came to Gabriel and his radical choice of wife.

“And to make it worse,” observed Justina—at eighteen years, the second-eldest sister—while settling herself comfortably against the bolster at the head of the bed, “Vivienne’s aunt has been telling everyone she knew all about their ‘romantic’ love affair and is looking forward to welcoming the new Duchess of Grantham. And this is after she sent Vivienne away in disgrace!”

The Viscountess Monteith and their grandmother have been enemies for years. The viscountess was also the mother of the woman Northam was supposedly engaged to, Lady Annette.

Roberta, sixteen going on seventeen years old and the third sister, had flung herself backward onto the bed with a groan, but now she sat up, brightening. “But that might be a good thing? Maybe Grandmama will decide she needs to be the one to welcome them home first. To steal a march on the viscountess.”

The girls mulled that over in silence. The truth was none of them knew when this situation might begin to right itself. If it ever did. Olivia had only just made her debut into society and had been garnering invitations left, right, and center. Despite her doubts about the whole debut thing, she had been a success, a genuine hit, and then she had accepted a foolish dare from Ivo, the Duke of Northam. The invitations had dried up, and people had begun whispering about her in a manner Olivia had found embarrassing and upsetting. Now that the dowager had forbidden visitors from entering the house, or Olivia from accepting any of her many invitations, she was beginning to wonder if she would ever get another chance.

“I’m going out in the carriage,” Roberta announced. “Who wants to come?”

There were several yeses. Their new governess would accompany them. She was far more amenable than their old governess, Pascoe, who Gabriel had sent off to Scotland indefinitely when he discovered just how cruelly she treated his sisters.

“Will Grandmama approve?” Justina asked with a worried frown. “I thought we were all supposed to remain indoors.”

“I don’t care if she approves or not,” Roberta responded valiantly. “I’m tired of being locked up. I want fresh air. I thought we could go up to Hampstead Heath. No one will see us there, and I have a new kite I want to try out.”

Roberta was the tomboy of the family, but flying a kite sounded harmless enough. Olivia exchanged a glance with Justina. Since their grandmother had taken over their lives, the rules had been far more rigid. Even before their father died, their mother had not cared much what they did with themselves, as long as they did not bother her. Running wild on the Grantham estate, playing at being highwaymen and pirates, or swimming naked in the pond at the bottom of the garden were just some of the fun things they had liked to do. Not any longer. They were young ladies now, sisters of the duke, and their behavior had to reflect that.

Despite her new resolve to make a success of her position in society—if she was ever given that chance again—Olivia missed being able to behave like a hoyden. Perhaps a run on the heath with the wind in their hair was just what they all needed. She looked up. Five pairs of eyes were focused on her, awaiting her verdict. “I think—” she began, just as there was a tap on the door.

One of the maids peeped in. Her eyes widened when she saw them all staring back at her. Hastily, she held out a card on a silver tray and stammered, “Th-there is a gentleman come to call on you, Lady Olivia.”

Olivia hopped down off the bed. Behind her, she heard Georgia say in that prissy voice, “Grandmama says we aren’t allowed visitors.”

As usual, they ignored her. Olivia read the name on the card and felt that familiar, unwelcome stutter in her chest, which only seemed to happen when she thought of Ivo. These days, she was trying very hard not to think of him at all.

“Olivia!”

The voice close to her ear made her jump. Justina was standing directly behind her and had read the card over her shoulder. Her sister looked flushed and cross, rare indeed for someone who was always so even-tempered. Justina was the peacemaker of the family, the one who soothed upsets and smoothed over arguments, and she was rarely out of sorts.

“I…” Olivia began, but Justina didn’t let her finish.

“What do you think Grandmama will do if she finds out Northam is here?” she whispered. “Aren’t we in enough trouble?”

Behind them on the bed, the other girls were loudly bickering about something and taking no notice of their two older sisters. All the same, Olivia leaned in closer. “I did not ask him to come, and I will send him away.”

“Tell Humber to send him away,” Justina said. She knew about Olivia and Ivo’s trysts—Justina was her confidante and the only one of her sisters that Olivia trusted completely.

“If I do that, Humber will tell Grandmama,” Olivia hissed. Their butler never did anything without informing their grandmother.

Before Justina could offer more advice, there was a shriek from the bed, and she hurried over to mediate on whatever this latest brawl was about. Olivia watched in silence, her mind miles away.

Ivo was someone she might have loved. There, she had admitted it! The night she had met him, at her coming-out ball, she had been instantly attracted to him. She had thought… well, she had thought that if she had to marry someone and spend her life with them, then why not him? However, further meetings between them had caused her to doubt he would ever be the sort of man she imagined herself marrying. Someone who would keep her from poverty—despite being a duke, Ivo was not wealthy. Someone who would protect her from scandal—Ivo was reckless by nature and addicted to extreme behavior. And someone who would allow her as much freedom as she wanted—perhaps that last point might work in Ivo’s favor, but then again, maybe not. He might be a tyrant in the home. Frustratingly, despite his shortcomings, she had continued to be drawn to him, until the night at the Elphinstones’.

And yet despite all her misgivings, they had become friends. He was someone she spoke to about the matters that troubled her most, and he listened and more often than not teased her out of her megrims. It was his special power. She could forgive him a great deal on account of his kindness.

But when she heard that Ivo was near enough to engaged to Lady Annette, Olivia could no longer make excuses for him. She was angry and disappointed. Because wasn’t lying and cheating the reason she and her sisters were in the position they were in now? Her father, Harry, had married his mistress but kept it from his wife, Olivia’s mother, and therefore Olivia couldn’t abide a man who lied and cheated. That character flaw was bad enough, especially when added to the others, but Ivo must have been aware what would happen when they were discovered together in the billiard room. He was not an innocent like her. He had been on the town for many years, and he must have known Olivia’s reputation would be damaged. Didn’t he care about her fall from grace?

Painfully, Olivia admitted she was as much to blame as he when it came to their assignation—as the gossips were calling it—at the billiard table. Yes, she had been dazzled by his attentions, but she should have known better. She did know better. Justina was right, she should send Ivo away right now without seeing him. But she needed to see him face-to-face. To look him in the eye, and ask him to explain himself. And after that, she wanted to tell him to never darken her door again. A little dramatic perhaps, but Olivia was feeling dramatic.

The sisterly brawl was getting noisier, and Olivia left them to it, making her way downstairs. She saw Ivo as soon as she opened the door. He was standing in a patch of sunlight, and everything about him seemed to glow. His hair, the buttons on his jacket, the shine on his boots. He was so handsome; if only his character aligned with his looks. The words she had meant to say dried up in her throat, and she was glad when Ivo spoke first.

“My apologies if I am interrupting you, Lady Olivia, but when you didn’t reply to my letter—”

Olivia had thrown it into the fireplace unread, in case she weakened. The reminder was all she needed to regain her composure.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she said in her coldest voice. “There has been enough gossip about us.” There was even one of those dreadful pamphlets with crude drawings of two characters who were meant to be Olivia and Ivo, leering at each other over a billiard table. Olivia had been appalled.

Ivo’s gaze remained on her face. Olivia wondered what he saw. A pale young woman with shadows beneath her blue eyes who was under immense strain? Or just another foolish girl falling in love with him?

He took a step forward. “Olivia, I came here to apologize again for my blunder at the Elphinstones’. It was foolish. It was completely my fault.”

Olivia opened her mouth to agree with him, but her need for honesty betrayed her. “Not completely. I am impulsive, a character trait I am working hard to correct. It will not happen again.”

“I want to—”

But she didn’t let him finish. “You are engaged,” she blurted out, feeling the heat in her cheeks. “At least my brother told me that you are. If it is true, then it makes your behavior reprehensible as well as reckless, and I would never have spent time alone in your company if I had known.”

“I’m not engaged,” he assured her in a firm voice. “Lady Annette and I are friends. She is like a sister to me. We were never engaged, and I have spoken to her since that night, and she is perfectly happy not to be engaged to me. Ever. There was a hope, I admit, but it was in the minds of our mothers. Some schoolgirl desire to see our two families united.”

He spoke with distaste.

“Perhaps you should have made that clear to your family and hers, before the gossipmongers began to believe it,” Olivia replied sharply.

His usually smiling mouth turned down and she saw that there were shadows under his eyes too. He looked serious and oddly uncertain. “You are right, and I was remiss. Again, I apologize. I assure you, I am not engaged. There is no one who holds such a promise from me.” He took another step closer and reached out, as if to take her hands in his. Quickly, childishly, she tucked them behind her back.

He frowned. “I had hoped we were friends too.”

Olivia spoke angrily. “Would a friend risk the reputation of a single young woman during her first London Season? Would a friend be so careless as to make a wager for a kiss?”

He bit his lip, and then tugged at the ring on his thumb. “You should have this. If we had not been interrupted, you would have won the game.”

She stared at him in amazement, and her voice trembled in fury. “I was losing, as you very well know. I don’t want your ring. Is that why you are here? To speak of that silly wager? When I cannot leave the house for fear of being whispered about or being depicted as a brainless flirt in one of those detestable gossip rags. I am an object of derision and pity, and you want to speak of that?”

He was silent, watching her warily, as if he thought she might explode all over him. “You have quite a temper, Olivia,” he said at last. “I can’t remember the last time I was abused like this. Perhaps at school when I failed the Latin test.”

He was joking. Even now, he was making fun of her. Olivia turned and strode to the window, only to turn around and face him again. “Please go. There is no reason for you to be here. If you were a gentleman…”

That stung him. The amused glimmer in his eyes was gone. “I am a gentleman. A single gentleman with no impediments, and that being the case, I am here to correct this situation, which is entirely of my own making. I enjoy your company, Olivia, and I think you enjoy mine. Your birth is not as exemplary as one might wish, but that is hardly your fault. I am sure there are a great many persons whose pasts are riddled with scandal, my own family included. Looked at in that light, ours is a match made in heaven.”

She blinked. Did she understand his meaning? Could he be making a declaration? A kernel of warmth flared inside her, and for a moment, she was ablaze with joy. Until she remembered Ivo had thoughtlessly dragged her onto one scandal—yes, it had been her fault too, but she was young and inexperienced, and he was not. He said he was her friend, but he had not behaved like one. And now he wanted to marry her despite her unfortunate birth? And then what? They could be disgraceful together?

Her attraction to him gave him the potential to damage her beyond recovery. Olivia had already made up her mind about her future. The misery of her childhood at Grantham, the shock of being rejected by the society she had just begun to be a part of. She was tired of being on the outside, and if she was given another chance to step into the heady world of the ton, then she would snatch it up and hold on tight. No longer would she allow others to treat her with contempt or whisper behind her back. If she had her way, they would not dare. She would be like the phoenix rising anew from the ashes of the past.

Unaware of her profound thoughts, Ivo smiled at her. “Come, Olivia,” he coaxed. “You know I’m right. Imagine what fun we could have together, cocking a snook at those gossips you are so worried about. Wouldn’t you enjoy that?”

Did he really believe that? She said quietly, “Doesn’t it concern you to be the subject of their gossip? When they talk about your curricle races, or the time you jumped into the Thames, or…” She tried to recall some of the more lurid stories about him she had heard.

He laughed. “How many times I could persuade Lady Edeline to dance with me in one evening? Four times, and her father was not happy.”

Suddenly stricken, she wondered if he had made a similar bet about her. Her face must have betrayed the thought, because he spoke quickly.

“No, no, I assure you, that was not something I would do to you. Dancing with you was a pleasure, Olivia.”

She swallowed. “Have you never considered employing more sober habits?”

“Sober habits?” He frowned, genuinely puzzled. “Why would I? I don’t drink to excess.”

“I meant… You do not seem to care how thoughtlessly you behave, and how it will affect those around you. Have you never stopped and thought before you acted, Ivo?”

He shook his head, and his frown deepened. “Life is to be enjoyed. If I stopped and thought about everything I did before I did it… What a tedious idea! Do you know I rescued a kitten last week? The mother cat had hidden herself away in the attic to have her brood, and this one had wandered up onto the roof. I climbed up and brought it down to her. I suppose if I had thought about it, I would have left it up there to starve rather than risk my neck.”

“You’re being ridiculous! That’s not what…” Olivia’s voice grew shaky. “Can’t you see that I could never rely on you?”

“I am punctual to a fault!”

Was he joking, or did he genuinely not understand? Either way, any chance of Olivia accepting his proposal died at that moment. “No,” she said. “Your actions make it impossible for me to consider your offer. My answer is no, Your Grace.”

The puzzled expression was back, as if he found her emphatic refusal completely beyond his comprehension. “I don’t think you quite understand me. I want to marry you, Olivia.”

“And I don’t want to marry you. In fact, I have no desire to see you again, so please do not call or write or contact me in any way. Is that plain enough?”

Was he disappointed? Was he angry? His face was blank, but a moment before, she thought she had seen a shadow in his green eyes. The idea gave her an odd, sour little thrill, before she tamped that down too. Maybe she had been mistaken though, because he was instantly himself again. He even gave a shrug, as if none of it mattered, bowing his farewells, saying the right things. If she had not seen that shadow, she might have believed her refusal meant absolutely nothing to him.

After the door closed, Olivia allowed herself to feel disappointed. Had he really meant to ask for her hand? She was already beginning to wonder if it had all been some silly joke on his part—another of his endless wagers.

“Olivia?”

Justina had come to find her, and now her sister hurried to take her hand, giving it a sympathetic squeeze. Olivia swallowed back the emotion that threatened to spill out in tears, and smiled instead.

“I’m perfectly all right,” she said in the carefree manner she had been practicing. “Are we going to Hampstead Heath or not?”

But when she opened the sitting room door, they were confronted with their grandmother. There was an ominous silence. Olivia opened her mouth to say something, she wasn’t sure what, because it was obvious the dowager knew exactly who had been with her.

“It wasn’t anything—” Justina began.

“I didn’t—” Olivia said.

“I don’t want to hear any more excuses.” Their grandmother’s voice was icy. “This is the second occasion you have compromised yourself with the Duke of Northam. Humber says he proposed to you.”

The two girls glared at Humber, who was lurking in the background.

“Is it your intention to marry him? A man with as little wisdom as he has money. I grant you he is a handsome specimen, but if he’s anything like his father, then you are in for a miserable time of it, my girl. I thought you had better sense.”

“If Humber had listened a little longer, he would have known my intention,” Olivia said bitterly.

“Don’t blame Humber for your own bad behavior,” was the cold response. “He was worried you were going to follow your brother’s example and elope. Do you enjoy being talked about every time you enter a room? Is that the sort of man you want to marry? Someone who will make you a laughingstock with his antics?” Then, the words that struck Olivia to her very soul. “Have you already forgotten what it is like to be poor and ignored and neglected?”

Olivia’s throat ached, and her voice was thick with tears. “No, Grandmama, I have not forgotten, and it is not my intention to marry Northam.”

Her grandmother stared at her a moment more and then nodded decisively. “Start packing. We are returning to Grantham forthwith.”

Miserably, Olivia and Justina trailed after her. They were going back to the country, back to exile, and who knew if they would ever see London again.

Ivo had walked to Ashton House, and now he walked home. His family owned a town house in the same exclusive area of London, so it wasn’t far, but he took his time. He found he had a great deal to think about, and none of it filled him with joy.

The memory of Lady Olivia Ashton as she had been a moment ago was lodged in his head. Petite, with unfashionable curves, dark hair arranged simply, and the shadows under her glorious blue eyes. She was suffering from the scandal he had caused, and although Ivo had shrugged it off as he did most of his risky adventures, Olivia could not. It was unfair perhaps, but that was the way in which the society they inhabited worked. Rules were very different for gentlemen, and far more censorious for ladies.

She had been angry with him. More than that, she had been disappointed.

Ivo could not remember the last time he had caused someone to be quite that upset. He tried not to hurt anyone when it came to his wagers. They were harmless enough and useful when it came to diverting attention from his other activities. If anyone was hurt, then it was usually himself. Races and cards and japes with his friends and peers. This matter with Olivia was different, and he should have known he needed to tread carefully.

He had been carried away.

From the moment he had seen Olivia at the ball at Ashton House, he had been intrigued, fascinated, and, yes, very tempted. Ivo never pursued respectable young ladies, but something about the sulky curve of Olivia’s mouth and the fearless gleam in her eyes would not let him forget her. She had become important to him, and when he was with her, he felt as if he might be something more than the debt-ridden, scandalous Duke of Northam.

Unfortunately, it seemed he had not changed all that much. He had damaged her reputation, she was correct in that, but he had wanted to rectify matters. He had been prepared to give up his freedom and marry her.

Surely, for coming to her rescue like he had with that wretched kitten, he should expect her gratitude. One of those genuine smiles she used to give him. There had been none of that. Instead, she had refused him, but not before asking him to change his life for her benefit.

Have you never considered employing more sober habits?

He shook his head, barely noticing the grand town houses he was passing. Viciously, he kicked aside a pebble. Was it so rash and foolish of him to expect her to accept his generous offer?

Ivo was a duke with an estate in Kent, but the family finances had been declining for years. Olivia was the daughter of a duke, but illegitimate, and her family was also in a financial bother. It wasn’t as if Ivo was marrying her for her money, for God’s sake! His mother would probably be horrified, but he didn’t care about that. He had a right to marry the lady of his choosing, and now that the nonsense with Annette was cleared up, he chose Lady Olivia Ashton.

He had thought… dash it, he had known she felt as strongly about him as he did about her. He recognized those looks she sent him. It really would have been a match of two halves of a whole. She was adventurous and audacious, with a spirit almost as daring as his own. They would have had a marvelous time together.

To be rebuffed was not what he had expected. Ivo was the youngest child and only son. He was indulged, and although his mother and two sisters tut-tutted at his “foolish antics,” as they called them, they did not censure him. No one ever had. No one ever stayed cross with him for long. He could “charm the birds out of the trees,” they told him fondly.

Olivia hadn’t been charmed. She had thrown his good intentions back in his face. Ivo tried to tell himself he had had a fortunate escape. Marrying a woman who would have tried to change him into something he was not? A tomcat into a tame house tabby? Impossible!

What should he do now? Well, he would recover, of course he would. He’d soon be himself again. His heart had taken a knock, but it wasn’t as if it was broken—more likely just cracked. But for all his inner bluster, Ivo knew he would not be himself in a week or even a month. Those moments with Olivia had shaken him, forced him to think about things he rarely did. He didn’t like it. He had the ungentlemanly desire to make her sorry that she’d refused him. To punish her in some as yet indefinable manner for hurting him.

It wasn’t pleasant to be thinking that way, but he found he couldn’t help it.

By now, Ivo had reached his town house. Just as he placed the toe of one shiny boot upon the bottom step, a gentleman called a greeting, and jarred him out of his uncomfortable thoughts. For a moment, he thought it was a creditor come to collect on one of his many overdue bills. He had promised his mother and sisters some time in London to enjoy the Season, but it had proven damn expensive. Had his sister taken that ridiculously overpriced bonnet back to the milliner as he’d told her?

But the gentleman wasn’t a debt collector. It was Charles Wickley.

Charles ran Cadieux’s Gambling Club jointly with its owner, the Duke of Grantham, although Ivo had heard that lately, with the duke otherwise occupied, Charles was more or less in complete control.

“Your Grace,” Charles said in a droll voice. “I have news of a private nature.”

“Mr. Wickley.” They exchanged bows. “Walk with me.”

Ivo set off through the square, and Charles fell into step beside him.

“There has been a hitch,” Charles spoke after a moment. “The . . .