What’s a Duke Got to Do With It

Book 0: Synneful Spinsters

by Christina Britton

Genres: Sagas; Regency Romance; Family Life

Synopsis

In this delightful Regency romp, a duke will have to decide whether a second chance at love is worth losing it all.

The last thing Katrina Denby expected to find in her garden is the body of the man who ruined her three seasons ago. No matter that his death is a tragic accident, the rumors are enough to kill any woman’s prospects. With two scandals now hounding her, the best she can hope for is a hasty marriage of convenience—until her first love shows up in her drawing room, reminding her of all the reasons why she wanted a love match. If only he weren’t already engaged. . .
            Sebastian Thorne, Duke of Ramsleigh, knows what he has to do to save the dukedom from the crushing debts and scandal his father left: marry and marry well. He’s picked the lady, too—a baron’s daughter who is pleasant, if a little boring. But seeing Katrina again makes him want to throw all those perfectly laid plans out the window. The first chance he had with her, he chose his duty over his heart. Doing so again might prove utterly impossible.

Release date: July 11, 2023

Publisher: Grand Central Publishing

Print pages: 352

Sample

Miss Katrina Denby had learned years ago that as soon as life seemed to be shifting in her favor, it was invariably going to be turned on its head.

It was not as if she believed there was some force out there determined to undermine every good thing she might have. She was unimportant, after all, and therefore could never garner such fatalistic occurrences from the powers that be. No, her future was merely caught in the crosshairs of much more important and devastating events. Whether it was her parents’ unexpected and tragic deaths just before her London debut, or her brother losing his arm after the duel in her honor that had sent her fleeing society in scandal, or the loss of her family’s fortunes, which had prompted her to enter a life of service, she had been trapped in the undertow of the swirling maelstrom that happened around her.

She could say, with utmost confidence, that her suffering on each occasion had been mild considering what others had suffered, and so it was incredibly selfish of her to fixate on her own heartbreak. She could have been in that carriage with her parents, instead of remaining at home with a cold. And she could have been without employment prospects when she had needed to escape her increasingly dire living situation. And she could have lost her brother in that duel…

Well, she amended bleakly, she supposed she had lost him in a way. But at least he wasn’t dead. And lately she had even begun to get a part of him back, her weekly letters to him, sent without fail though he had refused to acknowledge them for years, finally answered.

Now, secure in her position as companion to the irascible dowager Viscountess Tesh, the outspoken matriarch of that popular seaside resort the Isle of Synne, and in possession of the first real friends she had ever had, she felt she was finally attaining the respectability she had yearned for since that great scandal four years ago. And so she supposed she should have been prepared for yet another great upheaval. Fool that she was, however, she had instead remained blissfully unaware of the impending doom about to descend upon her.

Though how she could have ever predicted this, she thought as she looked down on a body sprawled inelegantly in the garden below her bedroom window, she didn’t have a clue.

“Goodness me,” she muttered, peering down into the heavily shadowed bushes. “Who in the world is that?”

The only answer she received, however, was a low woof from the massive canine beside her. Her sweet runt of a pup had grown considerably in the four years since she had taken over his care. Now, with paws the size of dinner plates planted on the windowsill, Mouse perked his ears and tilted his head in curiosity as he stared down at the unmoving form below them. As if he hadn’t been the one to push the man out of the window.

“Oh, Mouse,” she moaned. “What have you done now?”

Even if he had been able to answer, the dog would not have been given the chance. Suddenly she heard a great stomping of feet below and saw a lantern swinging wildly down the garden path, sending shadows careening through the vegetation. And then there was the butler and several footmen, faces illuminated by the glow of the lantern, all half-dressed and seemingly ready for battle if the brooms and mops they held poised like medieval swords were any indication.

“Good God, what happened?” she heard one of them ask as he knelt down to peer in the bushes. As the rest of them muttered darkly to one another, the butler came closer, the light from the lantern bathing the unknown man. Finally giving enough light for Katrina to see his identity.

Her vision went dark around the edges, and she could literally feel the blood leave her face. She did not know she had cried out, however, until the men below looked up at her in surprise.

The butler was the first to react. “Miss Denby,” Jasper called out in alarm. “Perhaps it’s best if you go back inside. This is no sight for a lady to witness.”

But she could not. No, her horrified gaze remained glued to the supine man below. His eyes were opened wide, staring unseeing up at the inky black sky, his mouth slack, his neck bent at an unnatural angle. But it was not the realization that she was staring down at a dead man that had her frozen in shock. No, it was the man’s very familiar features, features she had seen in her nightmares more than once in the last four years.

Jasper seemed to realize something was amiss. His steely brows drawing low over his eyes, he called out, “Miss, do you know this man?”

It took her some seconds to respond. When she finally did, however, her voice sounded as if it were coming from far away.

“I do,” she managed. “That is Lord Landon. The man who nearly killed my brother.”

Some hours later—truly she didn’t have a clue how many; all she knew was the sun had begun its ascent over the horizon—Katrina found herself seated in Lady Tesh’s private sitting room, a cup of hot tea in her hands, her employer and her dear friends surrounding her. She was certain she would eventually feel a horrible guilt for dragging them all from their beds in the middle of the night. Now, however, she was just glad they were with her.

Especially as the magistrate, Mr. Henrickson, was doing his damnedest to make Katrina feel as if she were somehow responsible for all this.

“You say you knew this Lord Landon?” He peered hard at Katrina. “And yet you do not know why he was attempting to climb into your bedroom?”

Miss Seraphina Athwart, proprietress of the Quayside Circulating Library and one of Katrina’s closest friends, glared at Mr. Henrickson from her place beside Katrina on the low settee. “Just what are you implying, sir?” she demanded, eyes narrowed dangerously behind her wire-rimmed spectacles.

He glared right back. “Miss Athwart, I don’t believe this has anything at all to do with you.” He smirked. “Perhaps it’s best if you went back to your little bookstore and left this to me.”

“It is not a little bookstore, but the premier circulating library on Synne,” she shot back coldly. Phineas, her ever present green-and-red parrot, glared with equal chill from her shoulder.

“I think what my friend is trying to say,” Miss Adelaide Peacham, owner of the Beakhead Tea Room, cut in with a complacent smile that did not reach her dark eyes, “is that Miss Denby has told you several times she has no idea why Lord Landon was attempting to gain access to her room. She has not seen the man in four years, after all.”

“So she says,” the magistrate drawled, disbelief ripe in his voice.

“Yes, she has said,” Bronwyn, formerly Miss Pickering but recently married and now the Duchess of Buckley, bit out as she looked over her spectacles at the man. “I sincerely hope you are not doubting her word, Mr. Henrickson.”

The magistrate, however, was not the least bit daunted by the possibility of insulting a duchess, if his patronizing glance Bronwyn’s way was any indication.

Blessedly Lady Tesh intervened just then, preventing the situation from getting any uglier. “Mr. Henrickson,” she snapped, bringing her cane down on the floor with a sharp thud lest the man dare try ignoring her, “I do believe you are through here. You can see my companion is overcome and exhausted beyond bearing. Why, she looks as if she is about to faint.”

Katrina blinked. Did she? She had thought she was doing quite a good job at keeping her composure, considering the circumstances.

But a quick jab in the ribs from Seraphina had her realizing what Lady Tesh was attempting to do. Placing her teacup on the low table, she pressed a hand to her forehead and gave a low moan, swaying in her seat.

Mr. Henrickson did not look the least convinced. But what could he do? Especially when Miss Honoria Gadfeld, the vicar’s eldest daughter, rose and shooed him toward the door.

“It was so very kind of you to make certain our dear Miss Denby is well,” she said with a syrupy smile. “I will be certain to tell my father how wonderfully you have handled this whole horrible mess. I am sure I can speak for him when I say God will look well on you for the work you have done here this night.”

“Oh!” Mr. Henrickson looked startled, then pleased as he was hustled toward the door. The man may be a blowhard, but he was a pious blowhard. Or if not pious, at least eager to earn his way into heaven by kowtowing to the local vicar. “Well, you know I do my best, Miss Gadfeld. That I do.”

“Of course you do,” she said complacently. “Do take care returning home; the sun is not quite up yet. And do give our best to your lovely wife.”

Before the man could reply, Honoria pushed him out the door and closed it firmly in his face. She leaned back against it, her pleasant expression disappearing as she rolled her eyes heavenward.

“The blathering idiot,” she mumbled.

“Kinder words than I would have used,” Seraphina muttered darkly.

“Doaty lavvy heid,” Phineas squawked in his strong Scottish brogue, ruffling his feathers in outrage.

“Quite right, my dear,” Seraphina murmured, reaching up to give his neck a scratch. “I could not have said it better myself.”

Katrina, however, was hardly aware of the exchange. The moment the man’s footsteps could no longer be heard she was up and racing across the room to the door that connected into Lady Tesh’s bedchamber. Yanking it open, she dropped to her knees and intercepted Mouse as he came tearing into the room, throwing her arms about him and pressing her face into his warm neck. He wiggled under her, attempting to reach her face so he might bathe it with his lolling tongue, his long tail thrashing to and fro in his joy at being invited into the group once more.

Katrina did not realize anyone had noticed her exit from the group until a soft hand landed on her shoulder and an even softer voice sounded in her ear. The scent of baked goods, Adelaide’s signature perfume, surrounded Katrina like a hug.

“They aren’t going to take Mouse away, Katrina,” her friend said gently.

“How do you know that?” she demanded, her voice muffled by the dog’s smooth fur. “What if Mr. Henrickson blames Mouse for Lord Landon’s fall? What if they try him for murder? What if they sentence him to death?”

Which, even as she babbled question after question, she knew was ridiculous in the extreme. Yet Katrina could not stop the panic from rising in her. Mouse was all she had left, the one thing her brother had gifted her, proof that he loved her. She could not lose the dog, this one last connection to him, too.

Anyone else might have laughed at her for her idiocy. Not Adelaide, however.

“I have every faith that Mouse shall not be tried for murder,” she soothed. Disentangling Katrina’s arms from about the dog, she assisted her to standing. “Now,” she said with a bracing smile, “why don’t we get you back to bed? You must be exhausted after such a troubling night.”

“Oh, yes,” Honoria chimed in, rushing over to them. “That’s a capital idea, my dear. Katrina, once you’ve gotten some rest you will be able to view the whole ordeal in a more positive light. Rather,” she amended sheepishly as Adelaide shot her a disbelieving look, “not exactly positive, as a man has died—”

“What Honoria is trying so valiantly to say,” Seraphina interrupted in her brisk, no-nonsense way as she approached, “is that things will not look quite so dire once you have rested. Exhaustion has a horrible effect on a person’s mental capabilities. Don’t you agree, Bronwyn?”

“Absolutely,” the woman in question answered, joining the group that surrounded Katrina. “You are not thinking clearly, and rightly so. Rest will provide you with a clear head.”

As one the four friends began to herd Katrina toward the sitting room door. She should be glad for their concern, she told herself. Yet the panic swelled up, choking her, filling her with so much tension she thought she would burst.

And finally she did, breaking away from arms that should have given comfort but instead felt suffocating. It was only as she stood apart from her dear friends, the self-styled misfits called the Oddments, that she realized why she was about to jump out of her skin.

“It does not matter how much sleep I get,” she managed, hugging herself about the middle. “The fact of the matter is, this is a huge scandal, one I won’t be able to escape from.”

At once her friends exploded in protest. Mouse, still in the middle of them all, looked at each one in turn, huge tongue lolling from his mouth, utterly clueless as to the chaos his exuberance had caused.

Katrina, however, could not keep her gaze from Lady Tesh. Her employer had remained off to the side, silently observing, her small white dog, Freya, equally watchful on her lap. It was a disturbing break from the woman’s normal brash forcefulness. Katrina knew that if anyone was going to tell her the truth of the matter, it would be her employer.

Lady Tesh did not disappoint.

“Katrina is right, of course,” she said, silencing the Oddments with one stern look. “This will no doubt cause a huge scandal. If it was just some random man, we might have been able to quiet the rumors. But Lord Landon was a peer of the realm. He perished attempting to climb into Katrina’s bedroom window in the dead of night. Not only that, but this was not the first time he had done so. We will not be able to sweep this under the rug.”

“There, you see?” Katrina said, though she did not feel one ounce of triumph from having Lady Tesh agree with her. No, the only thing she felt just then was the overwhelming desire to curl up in a ball and cry.

“There is only one thing to be done now,” she continued with much more bravado than she felt. Taking hold of Mouse’s collar, she dragged him out of the group of women and, straightening her shoulders, turned to face her employer. “I’m certain my brother will welcome me back,” she said bracingly—much more bravely than she felt. Francis had practically disowned her after Lord Landon’s first attempt at climbing into her room, laying the fault for the whole debacle, including the duel and the loss of his arm, on her shoulders. And she could not blame him one bit for it, though she still didn’t have a clue how she had encouraged the baron. But she must have done something to make the man think she would be at all receptive to such a thing.

That, however, was the past. And Francis’s recent letters, after so long ignoring her attempts to contact him, had given her hope that he would accept her back. She swallowed hard. After this horrible turn of events, she feared that she may have lost whatever ground she had gained with her estranged sibling. Even so, it was painfully obvious she could not stay. “I’ll pack up my things and be out of here as soon as I can manage. Will tomorrow morning suffice?”

The Oddments gasped, cries of dismay and outrage filling the room. Katrina, however, had eyes only for Lady Tesh. The woman was her employer, after all, and the entire reason she was on the Isle of Synne. The dowager had taken her in and offered her a position when Katrina had been quite without hope.

Her time on the Isle and in Lady Tesh’s employ had not been without its difficulties, of course. The woman was not the easiest person to work for. She was demanding and blunt and difficult on her best days.

But she had given Katrina a home, had introduced her to the women who would become her dearest friends. And in the process had saved Katrina when she had believed everything must surely be lost.

She fully expected the woman to nod in agreement. She should have guessed, however, that Lady Tesh must have her say.

“No,” the dowager viscountess murmured, “I don’t think that will suffice, not at all.”

Katrina’s stomach dropped. “You wish me to leave earlier than that? Very well, I’m certain I can manage to depart by this afternoon.” She turned to go, dragging Mouse along with her. Lady Tesh’s voice, however, stopped her in her tracks.

“No, you misunderstand me. Though,” the woman muttered, “that is no surprise. Everyone seems to willfully misunderstand me.” She speared Katrina with a stern glare. “You above all. Why you cannot follow simple instructions is beyond me.”

Katrina, as lost as ever where the woman was concerned, could only stare open-mouthed at her. Seraphina, blessedly, was not so reticent when it came to speaking up.

“What are you saying, Lady Tesh? Surely you cannot mean to let Katrina go.”

“Of course I shall not let her go,” Lady Tesh snapped. “Do you think me a monster? Just because some idiot man decided it would be wise to climb up the side of a building and invite himself inside a woman’s room without her consent, only to conveniently fall and break his damned neck? No, I shall not punish Katrina for that.”

There was a collective sigh of relief from the inhabitants of the room. None more so than from Katrina, who was so overwhelmed she became light-headed. It was only because her hand was on Mouse’s collar that she was able to keep her feet under her at all. As it was, she had to stumble to the nearest seat, dropping down into it with an inelegant grunt.

Despite her relief, though, common sense would insist on shining through.

“But, Lady Tesh,” she said, her head continuing to fight against her best interest, “you cannot want a companion with such a stain on her name.”

“I took you on with a stain on your name, didn’t I?” the woman demanded.

“Well… yes, I suppose you did—”

“And did it bother me one bit that you had a scandal attached to you?”

“I suppose not—” Katrina replied. Or, rather, tried replying, as Lady Tesh continued as if she had never spoken.

“I am well aware that men can be utter idiots when their cocks are involved.”

“Lady Tesh!” Adelaide gasped, her face as red as a strawberry. “There are unmarried women present.”

But Lady Tesh waved one heavily beringed hand in the air impatiently. “As if Miss Athwart here wasn’t providing you with the books and pamphlets to educate yourselves on the human body and all the intimate things it’s capable of,” she scoffed. “And I know she is doing so because I am the one who has funded such an endeavor. One of the greatest sins men have committed against females is keeping them blithely unaware of the sexual acts. No doubt,” she continued in a dark tone, “because if we were aware of just how horrible the vast majority of them are in bed, no woman would wish to lie with them. Your own husband, of course, is the exception,” she said to Bronwyn with a sly sideways glance. “That Ash looks as if he knows what he’s about.”

Katrina was vaguely aware of the strangled laughter around her. But she had no time to react herself before Lady Tesh’s piercing eyes were once more settled on her.

“You are not at fault for what that man has done. And I will not allow anyone to disparage you. As my companion, you are under my protection, and I do not take that duty lightly. And so I will hear no more talk about you leaving.”

Warmth filled Katrina until she thought she would weep with it. Lady Tesh was not an affectionate woman. More often than not she was rude and outspoken and gave no care to what others thought.

Such a speech coming from her, as aggressive as it had been, was as good as a shout to the heavens that she cared.

Even so, it would not be right to let the woman take on the full burden of this. It could not have been easy for her to hire such a person—Katrina recalled all too well the chilly reception she had received from much of Synne before Lady Tesh had stepped in and set everyone straight. But it would be doubly difficult now, with the old scandal resurrected in such a violent manner, and not only resurrected but also compounded upon. “If my brother insists I return home,” she managed around the lump in her throat, “I will return to him, and save you from whatever repercussions might arise from this.”

For the barest of moments, Katrina thought she saw pity darken the woman’s heavily lined face. But in a second it was gone, replaced with a gentleness that Katrina had never seen from her employer.

“Very well, you may write to him. But if he refuses, you shall stay with me. Is that understood?”

Swallowing down tears that burned her throat, Katrina nodded. “Yes, Lady Tesh.”

Though as the woman shuffled back to her bed and Katrina’s friends helped her back to her own, she didn’t know which she dreaded more: returning to her brother or having no recourse but to remain a burden to these people she loved.

Sebastian Thorne, Duke of Ramsleigh, paused at the bottom of the steps leading up to the Grosvenor Square town house. No, he didn’t pause; rather, he froze, his feet seemingly unable to move farther. He just stopped himself from letting loose the string of profanities that knocked at his lips and would have no doubt had every curious lady and gentleman—of which there were a prodigious number walking up and down the street at this time of the morning—dropping into dead faints.

What the devil was wrong with him? Once he secured Miss Bridling’s hand, his family would be saved. And not just his family, but every family who relied on the Ramsleigh title for their livelihoods. He would be given the means to fix their roofs, put food on their tables, expand their flocks, and see that their fields were properly sown. Not to mention repairing Ramsleigh Castle’s own leaking roof and crumbling plaster and broken windows. And he would be able to provide his sisters dowries of their own. Ones that would not be as large as they should be, of course, considering they were daughters of a duke, but enough to ensure they secured respectable husbands, as well as providing them with a safety net should they ever find themselves again in a position of looming poverty.

Yet even with all this hanging in the balance, their salvation finally within reach, he found his feet unable to propel him forward to claim it.

Expelling a harsh breath, he gritted his teeth and forced his legs to move. One step, then another, then another, until, finally, he was before the shining black door. He raised a disturbingly heavy hand, let the brass knocker fall.

Before the sound died down the door was thrown wide. Lord Cartmel’s dour butler stood there, as if he had been waiting for Sebastian the whole while.

And no doubt he had been. It was no secret that Sebastian had been courting Miss Bridling nearly from the moment he had met her two months ago. And he’d made no secret that he’d intended to make her an offer this very afternoon. He cast a glance back at the people milling about in the square, which had become a veritable crowd since he’d arrived. Every eye was turned his way and remained on him, though they had been caught blatantly staring. He heaved a sigh and turned back to face the butler. No doubt they did not want to miss the commencement of the match of the season. It really was too bad the possible groom-to-be was wishing he was anywhere else but here.

The butler bowed. “Your Grace. Shall I let Miss Bridling know you are here?”

As if the man didn’t know very well that Sebastian was not here to see Miss Bridling at all. Keeping his face impassive, he just stopped himself from tugging nervously at his jacket. “Actually,” he said as he stepped inside the cool, cavernous front hall and the door closed behind him, blessedly leaving the gawking crowd behind, “I am here to see Lord Cartmel. If you could inform him of my presence?”

“Very good, Your Grace,” the butler intoned, not a flicker of surprise in his eyes. “If you will have a seat in the rose sitting room, I shall see if the baron is home.”

Before Sebastian could acquiesce, a soft voice sounded behind him.

“There is no sense in falling on ceremony, Curtis. Father is expecting you, Your Grace. I shall show you to the study.”

The butler bowed and backed away. “As you wish, Miss Bridling.”

Sebastian turned to face his future wife. It was not ego that made him so certain her father would accept his suit, or that the lady would accept his proposal. No, he knew what Lord Cartmel was after: a dukedom for his beloved daughter. No matter that the dukedom had been besieged with scandals and creditors in the past years, no matter that not many families would wish to take on the immense burden of bringing the dukedom back to what it had been—not to mention that of its soiled reputation—there was still much a title could buy. Including the only daughter of one of the richest men in England.

That particular woman was looking at him right now, her face as smooth and impassive as ever, her lips ever-so-slightly curved in that barely-there smile that held not a hint of warmth in it. Miss Diane Bridling was nothing if not poised and proper.

Yet every now and then, Sebastian was certain he caught. . .