On a Wild Duke Chase: The Wayward Woodvilles Book 2 Read online

  "Well, you do not look to be the odd one out." He held out his hand as they came to the slow-flowing waterway, helping her step on several boulders that allowed her to pass over the brook without getting her boots wet.

  "Thank you," she said as they started up the slight incline. Their view opened up to the estate at the top of the small rise, grand with its sandstone walls and glistening windows. The home of one of the largest country estates she'd ever seen before.

  "Is your house similar to Lord Billington’s?" she asked him, curious to know more about him.

  “Ah,” he stammered, “a little. My estate is as large, I think the number of rooms is on par with Billington's estate, but the houses are quite a different shape. His is a rectangular-shaped home where mine is U-shaped, with a large, paved terrace that stretches between the buildings. I will admit it makes for disembarking from horses or carriages a much more pleasant experience when there is no mud underfoot."

  "So it is similar to Versailles," she suggested.

  "Have you ever been to the royal palace? I hear it is quite beautiful."

  "No, I have not," she admitted. "But I have seen drawings and would love to visit there one day." Isla wanted to see a lot of places and live life to the fullest just as the heroines in her books relished doing.

  "Nor I, but you are right. The courtyard is similar, but by no means as grand."

  They came closer to the house, and the drumming of horses’ hooves caught their attention. They could see the hunting party travel across the top of a hill in a distant field, riding hard on their mock hunt.

  "Thank you for walking me back, my lord."

  He tipped his hat, waving her through the front door that a footman had come to open for them. "The pleasure was all mine. I shall see you at dinner, Miss Woodville.”

  Isla's mood lifted, and she all but floated up the stairs. What a generous, thoughtful man he was. So unlike what she had pictured any of the gentlemen at this party to be. He would be the type of gentleman whom she ought to strive to marry. One who did not think himself so far above her. Not dismissive or rude.

  But could she make him see her as a potential bride? They were already friends, and that at least was a good foundation to build on. And she would start tonight, build on that footing, and hope for the best.

  Chapter

  Six

  After dinner that evening, Duke stood in the smoking room with Billington and several other gentlemen staying at the estate. The ladies had retired to the drawing room, and Duke could hear the muffled sound of the pianoforte being played.

  "You seem quite enthralled with Lady Susan and Lady Martha, Leigh. Do not forget poor Lady Francesca, or she will have a fit of the vapors from being left out in the cold by your lack of attention," Sir Terrance taunted before taking a long draw of his cheroot.

  Duke refused to rise to the man's bait. He had reasons for looking for a rich bride, and no one in his social sphere needed to know the real reason as to why. He did not mind them thinking he wanted it merely to save his estates and to keep him in the affluent life he was born into. They could never know the real reason was to bring his mother home so she could take up her rightful place in their family. No doubt they would find out soon enough. When he located his mother in Spain and returned her to London and her rightful place as the Dowager Viscountess Leigh, then he may explain himself, but until then, they could think the same as everyone else. That he was seeking a rich bride because his father had failed in his duty to the family to keep the coffers full of blunt.

  "I have not dismissed Lady Francesca yet, Sir Terrance. The house party is young, and there are many more days yet for me to decide on which lady will suit my needs best."

  "Or which one has the largest fortune?" Billington stated.

  Everyone laughed, including Duke, and yet he did not find the situation amusing at all. He hated to have to marry for money, to save his family from financial ruin. To place him on the chopping block of an arranged, beneficial, monetary marriage for the rest of his life. He had not wanted a bride under such circumstances, and he loathed the situation in truth.

  He swallowed the savage retort on the tip of his tongue and instead shrugged as if chasing fortunes was an amusing pastime he enjoyed. "You know as well as I that the late viscount was lucky to keep the Hampshire Estate and the London town house. I now need enough resources to keep those employed by me and living under my care to remain to do so. I will not end their employment simply because my father did not know how to economize," he lied. Sort of. He needed the funds to keep the houses running and gain a little safety concerning his income. But he needed money to bring his mother home. To withdraw her from Bedlam in Spain would not be cheap. His father never wished for her to return, and he had little doubt it would cost a small fortune to have all records of her being there destroyed.

  "Well, I have it on good authority," Lord Kempt said, meeting his eye, "that Lady Susan Craig is the richest heiress at the house party. Thirty thousand pounds at least plus property."

  "No, it is Lady Francesca. She will inherit property and has a dowry that would make any man overlook the unfortunate length of her face."

  Duke frowned. For all of Lady Francesca's unfortunate features, the lady was considerate and polite, and she did not deserve their opinions on her features, which he had no doubt she was well aware of and probably quite self-conscious of too.

  "What about Miss Woodville?" Billington suggested, sipping his whiskey. "Derby did not tell me what his marriage afforded him, but I have heard that all the sisters have the same dowry figure."

  "It would be probably five thousand pounds at most, I would think," Sir Terrance said, nodding as if assured of this figure. "You can see by her clothes for a start. Her friend too looks as fashionable as a lady’s companion and that leaves me to conclude that neither have much."

  Duke frowned. He wished Miss Woodville was worth more than five thousand pounds, but such a small sum would not suffice. No matter how pretty or intriguing she was, he had to seek a fortune to save himself and his family. "Well then, it looks like I shall have to increase my gentlemanly wiles toward Lady Susan if I'm to gain an heiress for a wife. I shall set forth from this evening and double my efforts to win her heart."

  "And her purse." Billington laughed. "We wish you well, Leigh."

  He nodded, but there was no pleasure in it. He did not want a wife under such circumstances, but he had little choice. He could not in all good conscience allow his mother to rot away in an asylum she did not belong in. She had spent too many years there as it was.

  "Thank you," he replied. "But I think a few moments alone with her, and several kisses, and she will be my willing fiancée in no time."

  Sir Terrance tipped up his glass in salute. "We look forward to watching your wiles and seeing you accomplish your goals."

  And he would accomplish them. He had no other choice but to.

  Isla slumped against the wall in the chamber that adjoined the smoking room. She had not meant to eavesdrop but had wanted to look at a family painting that had been discussed at dinner and had overheard the gentlemen enter next door not long after.

  Lord Leigh was a fortune-hunting arse! She wished she had not heard his words that spoke of a man determined to marry a woman for her money and not her heart. What a cold, unfeeling type of man to marry a woman for such underhanded reasons.

  Of course, she knew that people married for convenience more often than not, but it was not the reason why she would marry and nor would she allow the ladies here at the house party to be fooled by a handsome face and sweet words from a man who did not mean a word of them.

  She moved away from the door, trying to be as quiet as she could as she left the room, forgetting entirely about the painting. Not that much held her interest at the house party any longer. Not after hearing that if she were only worth five thousand pounds, she was unworthy of a husband. At least, that was what all of the men discussing the issue with Lord Leigh thought.
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  All of them, Lord Billington, Sir Dung, and Lord Kempt, deserved a proper set down. But then, if she hollered at them like a fishwife, they would know she had overheard their conversation, and that would never do.

  She frowned, entering the parlor just as her friend Harlow finished playing the pianoforte. Several ladies clapped while Lady Susan's visage reeked of distaste.

  What foolish men to think she was worth only five thousand pounds. She was worth far more than any of the ladies here. Her family may be gentry indeed, not nobility, but her parents had not lived extravagant lives, and her dearest papa was already more wealthy than most lords in London when he married her mama.

  Not that she would tell any gentleman that her dowry was forty thousand pounds, for they did not deserve her or her fortune. But they did deserve her wrath at their greed. They would undoubtedly use the funds to keep a mistress or gamble or enjoy a life of luxury and vice. The women present were probably all here like poor unfortunate souls sold at a meat market.

  "Ladies, we hope you have not missed our company too much," Lord Leigh teased, throwing her an amused smile as the gentlemen entered the room.

  Isla sat beside Harlow and fought not to glare at each of them. Nor would she allow the hurt in her chest to get the better of her for thinking Lord Leigh more preferable than he was. She had thought him her friend, mayhap even more than that if they could get to know each other more.

  "What is the matter, Isla? You're very pale," Harlow said, passing her a glass of ratafia, a concerned frown on her brow.

  "If I tell you something, will you keep it between us? I'm still processing it myself, and I will admit that I'm very shocked and disappointed."

  "Of course," Harlow said, reaching out to comfort her.

  Out the corner of her eye, she could see Lord Leigh bow before Lady Susan. The woman's tinkering laugh grated on Isla's nerves. "I overheard several gentlemen, and Lord Leigh whom I thought highly of, that he is here merely to gain a rich wife. The gentlemen seemed to think it some kind of sport to chase the ladies with sizeable dowries."

  "Really?" Harlow said, her eyes going wide with alarm. "What a notion to talk about such things out loud. Of course, we know that gentlemen, and ladies too, I should mention, do seek husbands and wives who may help the other spouse's less-abundant bank balances, but discuss it as a sport? Well, that is very bad manners indeed."

  "Indeed," Isla agreed, grinding her teeth. "They were laughing about it, and Lord Leigh was in agreement, mentioning Lady Susan, as they think she is the richest lady among us."

  Harlow scoffed, sipping her drink. "Then they are fools, and we know something that they do not."

  "Nor will we tell them," Isla mentioned, just in case Harlow took as much offense as she did and talked of what she knew.

  "If Lord Leigh finds out that you are worth a fortune, you may become his target. Whatever will you do if he does that?"

  Anger thrummed through her at the idea of being courted, flirted with, and spoken to as if she were the most wonderful woman of his acquaintance while knowing all the while it was all false. That she was nothing but a purse to him. She had thought him better than that.

  "He will not, and we must hope that no one else here knows what we're worth, you included, Harlow. You are not without a significant dowry."

  "That is true," Harlow agreed. "But my dowry is smaller than yours." She paused, watching several gentlemen as they stood talking with the guests. "You were becoming fast friends with his lordship. However will you get along with him now?" Harlow asked her.

  Isla pursed her lips, debating that very dilemma. "Well, I will treat him with cool indifference, and I shall ensure that no lady here falls under his spell and is married off merely because she can save his financial concerns." She shook her head, her eyes narrowing on the gentleman she had thought better than he was. Disappointment stabbed at her, and she couldn't help but wonder how many other gentlemen she would meet in London next year who were merely in need of a rich wife.

  However would she know before making the terrible mistake of marrying such a cad?

  "You are going to stop him from making a match? If he comes to know why you're causing him such strife, he may be unpleasant to you. Are you willing to take such a risk?" Her friend threw Lord Leigh a dubious glance. "I think in a temper he would be quite scary, all told."

  "He would do nothing, and nor could he for what I accuse him of is true and came from his own lying mouth. To think I thought him genuine. We must be so very careful, Harlow. There are wolves in sheepskins everywhere in Society."

  "Ah, yes indeed." She nodded in the direction of Lord Leigh, who was leading Lady Susan to a vacant settee. "I think you ought to start your saving of these ladies now, if you wish to rescue Lady Susan, that is. I know she has not been the most welcoming to us, but even she deserves better than that."

  Isla stood. "She is a woman, and we must combine forces so men such as Lord Leigh do not get away with such underhanded, cruel intentions."

  "Good luck," Harlow said.

  Isla started toward them with determined steps. It was not she who needed luck. Lord Leigh would need that in spades after she was through ruining all his devious plans.

  Chapter

  Seven

  Duke pulled Lady Susan away from the other guests, wanting to talk to her more and see if she suited him better than the others. If the rumors regarding her dowry were true, she was indeed the wealthiest lady in attendance, and he was sure he could woo her enough to make her want to marry him.

  He studied Lady Susan. Her long, golden locks were sun-kissed, and she was fetching. Although their marriage would commence as one of convenience for him at least, that did not mean he would not grow feelings for the lady in time. She was a pleasure to watch as she spoke of her home in London and her family, whom she appeared fond of.

  "I have cats too, my lord. I do adore the little animals. They are so affectionate but without being needy like dogs seem to be. Do you not agree?" she asked him.

  He paused, wanting to say that cats were opinionated, nettled-type animals that liked to claw furniture and shit in dark corners of homes. That dogs were trainable, obedient, and loyal creatures. Not to mention he was allergic to cats. Swelling always seemed to occur on his skin whenever one rubbed on his leg or he patted them.

  This could prove an issue should they marry and not one he had thought to worry about. "You have cats? Does that mean there are more than one?" he asked, not quite sure he wanted to know the answer to his question.

  "Oh yes, I have four. A mother cat, called Mummy Cat, and her three kittens, Ginger, because he's a ginger cat, Torti because she's tortoiseshell, and Black Cat because…"

  "The cat is black?" he finished for her.

  She smiled, pleased that he had guessed. He stared at her, wondering if she were as bright as he originally thought.

  A shadow passed over them, and he glanced up. "Lord Leigh, Lady Susan, may I sit with you?"

  Miss Woodville sat beside them and turned to include herself in their conversation without waiting for an answer. "Did I hear you mention that you have cats, Lady Susan? I adore the little creatures, and we have one ourselves at home. He's called Oscar."

  Well, at least that is a name… Duke cleared his throat, bringing Lady Susan's attention back to him. "I would like another dog, but I thought to wait until I was married, just in case my bride would like to choose the breed." He smiled at Lady Susan and was pleased to see a rosy hue settle on her cheeks.

  "We have a dog too and numerous horses. My sister Julia loves to ride," Miss Woodville mentioned.

  Duke narrowed his eyes on her, wondering what she was doing near them in any case. She had not shown to be talkative and the kind of guest who placed herself in other people's conversations before today.

  A terrible sensation shivered over him. Was the chit jealous of his singling out of Lady Susan? Through their friendship, did she think that she had a chance of becoming his wife? He thought
on that prospect a moment. Of course, he would have looked at Miss Woodville, hell he would have looked at anyone should they have the funds that he required, but she was not one of them.

  He listened to the ladies talk for a few minutes about the menagerie of animals they both owned at their respective homes, and shame washed over him that other than horses, he had not purchased a new dog for the estate which they had always had during the years. What viscount could not afford a good pointer for his estate? Another failing he could level at his father.

  "I adore King Charles spaniels. They are the most adorable, and of course, the royal family seems fond of them."

  "They are indeed. I think such a dog would suit you," Miss Woodville agreed with Lady Susan. Duke had not thought they had spoken since the start of the house party, but talking of animals seemed to have warmed Lady Susan to Miss Woodville.

  He watched the latter, noting the differences between the ladies. Miss Woodville had the clearest skin he had ever seen and a sweet nose that fit her heart-shaped face perfectly. She was an extremely beautiful woman. More so than Lady Susan. Even with all her lofty family ancestors, she still was not gifted with as much beauty as the common Miss Woodville.

  Curious.

  His gaze dipped to the ladies' gowns and there too were differences. Lady Susan's was of the highest-quality silk and made precisely to fit her form perfectly, while Miss Woodville seemed to favor a good-quality muslin, the gown gaping a little at the bosom. His eyes feasted on Miss Woodville's ample cleavage before he severed his ogling and instead took in the room and the others conversing there, lest she caught him admiring her breasts.