A Diamond for a Duke : Book 4: Camellia: Clean Regency Romance (A Duke's Daughters - The Elbury Bouquet) Read online

  A Duke’s Daughters –

  The Elbury Bouquet - Book 4 - Camellia

  Clean Regency Romance

  A Diamond for a Duke

  Arietta Richmond

  Dreamstone Publishing © 2020

  www.dreamstonepublishing.com

  Copyright © 2020 Dreamstone Publishing and Arietta Richmond,

  All rights reserved.

  No parts of this work may be copied without the author’s permission.

  ISBN-13: 978-1-925915-53-2

  Disclaimer

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, organisations, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.

  Dedication

  For everyone who had the grace to be patient while this book, and every other book that I have written, was coming into existence, who provided cups of tea, and food, when the writing would not let me go, and endured countless times being asked for opinions.

  For the readers who inspire me to continue writing, by buying my books! Especially for those of you who have taken the time to email me, or to leave reviews, and tell me what you love about my books, and what you’d like to see more of – thank you – I’m listening. I hope that you enjoy this new series (which features some appearances by old favourite characters from the His Majesty’s Hounds series), just as much as my other books.

  For my growing team of beta readers and advance reviewers – it’s thanks to you that others can enjoy these books in the best presentation possible!

  And for all the writers of Regency Historical Romance, whose books I read, who inspired me to write in this fascinating period.

  Table of Contents

  A Diamond for a Duke

  Disclaimer

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Here is your preview of A Minx for a Merchant

  Chapter One

  Books in the A Duke’s Daughters – the Elbury Bouquet Series

  Books in the His Majesty’s Hounds Series

  Books in The Derbyshire Set

  Regency Collections with Other Authors

  Books in the Regency Scandals Series

  Books in the Nettlefold Chronicles

  Other Books from Arietta

  Other Books from Dreamstone Publishing

  Books by Arietta Richmond

  His Majesty’s Hounds

  Claiming the Heart of a Duke Intriguing the Viscount

  Giving a Heart of Lace Being Lady Harriet’s Hero

  Enchanting the Duke Redeeming the Marquess

  Finding the Duke’s Heir Winning the Merchant Earl

  Healing Lord Barton Kissing the Duke of Hearts

  Loving the Bitter Baron Falling for the Earl

  Rescuing the Countess Betting on a Lady’s Heart

  Attracting the Spymaster Courting a Spinster for Christmas

  Restoring the Earl’s Honour

  From Soldier Spy to Lord (contains the first three books in one volume)

  To Love a Determined Lady (Contains Books 4, 5 and 6 in one volume)

  Love Heals a Lord (Contains Books 7, 8 and 9 in one volume)

  A Duke’s Daughters – The Elbury Bouquet

  A Spinster for a Spy (Lily)

  A Vixen for a Viscount (Hyacinth)

  A Bluestocking for a Baron (Rose)

  A Diamond for a Duke (Camellia)

  A Minx for a Merchant (Primrose) (coming soon)

  An Enchantress for an Earl (Violet) (coming soon)

  A Maiden for a Marquess (Iris) (coming soon)

  A Heart for an Heir (Thorne) (coming soon)

  The Nettlefold Chronicles

  The Duke and the Spinster To Dance with the Dangerous Duke

  A Duke in Autumn A Christmas Bride for the Duke

  The Regency Gothic Series

  Lord of the Storm

  Lord of the Darkness (coming soon)

  Lord of the Lost (coming soon)

  Lord of the Shadows (coming soon)

  The Regency Scandals Series

  The Gift of a Christmas Scandal Lady Mariel’s Scandalous Love

  Christmas with That Duke (coming soon)

  Lady Canterford’s Conspirators (The Mayfair Ladies Poetry Society)

  A six book series (coming soon)

  The Derbyshire Set

  A Gift of Love (Prequel short story)

  A Devil’s Bargain (Prequel short story - coming soon)

  The Earl’s Unexpected Bride

  The Captain’s Compromised Heiress

  The Viscount’s Unsuitable Affair

  The Count’s Impetuous Seduction

  The Rake’s Unlikely Redemption

  The Marquess’ Scandalous Mistress

  A Remembered Face (Bonus short story – coming soon)

  The Marchioness’ Second Chance

  A Viscount’s Reluctant Passion

  Lady Theodora’s Christmas Wish

  The Duke’s Improper Love (coming soon)

  A Gentleman’s Unconventional Courtship (coming soon)

  The Derbyshire Set, Omnibus Edition, Volume 1 (the first three books in one volume.)

  The Derbyshire Set, Omnibus Edition, Volume 2 (the second three books in one volume.)

  Other Books

  The Scottish Governess

  Her Summer Duke

  The Earl’s Reluctant Fiancée (coming soon)

  The Crew of the Seadragon’s Soul Series, (coming soon - a set of 10 linked novels)

  Themed Collections

  The Regency Christmas Hearts Collection

  The Regency Spring and Valentine’s Hearts Collection

  The Regency Summer Hearts Collection (coming soon)

  The Regency Autumn Hearts Collection (coming soon)

  Chapter One

  “Your Grace.”

  “Curse you! How many times, Dobson, have I told you never to interrupt my practice?”

  Damien Falton, Duke of Blackwater, spun to a halt in the middle of the bare floor, the swords casting sharp lines of reflected light about the room as they dropped to his side. His butler took a steadying breath, then replied.

  “Many times, Your Grace, but… I have been standing here, hoping that you might pause, for nigh on half an hour…”

  Damien sighed, then turned, walked to the side wall, and carefully replaced the swords on their appointed racks. He supposed the man had a point, no matter how annoying the interruption was.

  “And? What matter is so important that you’ve stood there waiting, rather than just going about your business, and coming back in a few hours’ time?”

  “There is a gentleman here, Your Grace. A Mr Swithin. He insisted on waiting. He is a man of business, I believe.”

  Damien simply stood ther
e, his mind running madly through his memories. He did not recall the name. What could the man want with him? Or was this some other fool scheme being proposed to him, or accusation brought? He never knew what to expect, of late. It was rather darkly amusing that the gossips had wrought him such a reputation, simply because he did not pander to their expectations of behaviour.

  “And why is he here? Why should I waste my time speaking with him?”

  For the first time that Damien could remember, in his entire life, Dobson actually looked acutely nervous. Which was enough to send a shiver of premonitory cold down his spine.

  “Your Grace… he… he claims to represent Mr Thomas Black.”

  The name dropped into the room like a stone into a pool, the ripples flowing out from it to rock Damien where he stood. Bitter anger flashed through him. Over a year now, and the anger had not abated, nor the uncertainty, the sense that his entire life was a sham. Dobson waited, his eyes downcast, knowing his master well enough to likely guess at what thoughts seethed within his calm exterior.

  Damien drew himself up, and forced the anger away, back into the depths of his mind. He could not afford to act rashly.

  “I see. Then I had best see him. Has he been given tea? For I’d best make myself respectable.”

  He gestured to his rumpled shirt, damp where his exertions had heated him.

  “Yes, Your Grace, I took the liberty of providing tea and cakes. And of warning Matson that you would likely wish a change of attire.”

  “Good. Where did you put this Mr Swithin?”

  “In the small blue parlour, Your Grace.”

  Damien nodded, and left the room, brushing past Dobson without another word.

  Upstairs, Matson waited with suitable clothes laid out, and Damien allowed the familiar ritual of washing and dressing to calm him, to drive the bitter anger deeper, and permit him to simply be cold and austere. By the time he went back down, he was contained, and presented an impassive, implacable face to the world.

  He entered the blue parlour, and a man rose from his seat, carefully depositing a teacup on the side table. The man was unremarkable, with mid brown hair, and the slightly bent stature common to men who worked over a desk for much of their days, but his eyes were bright, and kind. Most unusually for him, Damien felt the impulse to trust him.

  “Mr Swithin?”

  “Your Grace.”

  The man bowed, quite elegantly.

  “Let us get straight to business. What does my long-lost illegitimate brother want?”

  <<<

  Lady Camellia Gardenbrook stood at the side of the ballroom with her sisters, studying the people who moved about, talking amongst themselves. It was early winter, and there were less people present than one usually found at a Ball in London. Her younger sisters were off to one side a little, obviously gossiping with their friends, and her older sister Rose was speaking to some friends of their mother’s.

  Rose had been out of sorts since they returned from Chester Park, and Camellia suspected that her unhappiness had everything to do with the fact that a certain Lord Wrenton was not in London. Truth to tell, Camellia felt somewhat out of sorts herself, although she would never admit it.

  She had watched, in this last year, her two eldest sisters find love, and marry, and now she suspected that Rose was like to have done the same, and that an announcement would be forthcoming before Christmastide. Which made her acutely aware that she had near turned twenty, yet had not met any man she would consider marrying.

  For her to marry, apart from her desire for love, she needed to find a man who would not prevent her from continuing her charity and investment program – the one that none of her family knew about. Finding such a man seemed unlikely in the extreme.

  She smiled, regardless, and watched the people, hoping to see someone that she knew, someone suitable to talk to. Near the door, there was a small flurry of movement, as new arrivals came down the steps into the room. Curious, she watched. People moved aside, and a gentleman whom she had never seen before stepped through the gap. He was very tall, with deep black hair, and an expression almost of disdain.

  As he passed, young women simpered at him, then whispered behind their fans as he ignored them. Camellia had the oddest sense that his disdain was genuine, not the affected ennui of the fashionable set, and that thought made her want to know why he felt that way. That he was sinfully handsome, yet completely ignored every woman around him, only made him more intriguing.

  “Oh, I wondered if he would attend. Handsome, isn’t he?”

  Beside her, Bella, the Duchess of Hartswood and one of her closest friends, spoke. Camellia spun to face her.

  “Who is he, Bella? I do not believe that I have ever seen him before.”

  “He is the Duke of Blackwater. You probably haven’t seen him before, despite knowing almost everyone. He was away, in Italy, I think, for a few years, then returned to England when his father died, a little over a year ago. He allowed mourning to keep him in seclusion, and everyone has been speculating about him ever since. There are whispers that he’s a skilled dueller, and that scar on his face is the result, but no–one knows for certain. I’ve heard him called ‘the Black Devil’s Blade’, but I don’t know the story behind it. Every marriageable woman has been just waiting for the day when he would go out in society again.”

  Camellia smiled – trust Bella to have heard all of the gossip.

  “I must say, for a man being swooned over, he doesn’t exactly look happy about it.”

  “No, he doesn’t. Perhaps we can discover more about him, with a few judicious questions.” Bella set about just that, but by the end of the evening, they knew precious little more about the man.

  It seemed that there were many rumours, but little or no substantial information. Camellia had found herself watching him all evening, regardless of the fact that she had determined not to do so – somehow, her eyes just kept returning to him. In the end, she forced herself to ignore him, no matter how hard that was, and by the time that she settled into the carriage to go home, the effort had left her exhausted.

  She did not see him again until just before they left London to go to a Christmas House Party at Lord Wrenton’s country home, and even then, it was a bare glimpse across a crowded room at a musical soiree.

  He looked no more happy than he had at the Ball, and she cast off her curiosity – perhaps he was just a naturally dour man… But then, the thought came, that handsome face was surely not made for such a stiff and austere expression – what did he hide?

  <<<

  Damien hated Balls, and soirees, and socially important dinners. Hated anything, really, which forced him into the company of his peers. At this particular soiree, he also hated the musical entertainment – which was less than mediocre.

  He leaned against the wall at the back of the performance room, and studied those seated before him, all attempting to look as if they were enjoying themselves, far too polite to simply leave, no matter the torture inflicted on their ears. He almost laughed, but restrained himself. There was no point in giving the gossips yet more fodder for their whispers.

  Whispers which, of late had been increasing again, and not just about the usual speculation upon the source of the scar on his cheek, but upon the disgrace his father had wrought on the family – which gossip he had thought to have died off, nine months before. Which brought his thoughts back to the very physical evidence of that disgrace, in the form of an illegitimate child.

  It had been weeks, and he still had not come to terms with the information imparted to him by Mr Swithin – nor had he decided what to do about it. He had started going about in society for his sisters’ sake – they would come out, this coming spring, and it behoved him to make that as successful as possible for them.

  Which requirement did nothing to improve his opinion of society in general.

  His eyes fell on a young woman who sat off to one side, with others whose resemblance suggested that they were
her sisters. She was stunningly beautiful, in a remarkably unaffected way, and her face was set in a pleasant smile – but the small lines at the edge of her lips suggested that the expression was forced, out of politeness. He watched her, and a slight sense of familiarity tickled at the edges of his awareness.

  He had seen her before.

  His brow furrowed as he concentrated, trawling through his recent memories. Then he had it – she had been at that horrible Ball – the first he had attended after the end of his mourning. She had been chatting happily with another woman, who had been as dark haired as this one was fair. Who she was, he did not know, but for the first time, he found himself curious.

  He shook that idea away. It was preposterous!

  He was not here to become interested in any woman – dealing with the need for an heir could wait – a long time, if he had anything to do with it. Any thought of a wife and children brought him back to the bitter anger, and to the betrayal that his father had perpetrated on everyone around him.

  Still, his eyes followed her as the performance ended, and the relieved audience streamed out of the room in search of refreshments.

  He wanted to know who she was.

  He was a fool to want it, but he did. He chose to forgo the refreshments, bid his hostess good night, and went out into the bracing wintry air. He had far more important things to deal with than his curiosity about an unknown woman – no matter that she was beautiful enough to be declared a diamond of the first water.

  Chapter Two

  In a well-presented shop, just far enough from Bond Street to be no longer quite in the fashionable area, Mr Thomas Black sat behind his counter, contemplating his account ledgers. Wish as he might for the picture that they presented to be different, the numbers remained obstinately the same.

  His situation was worsening by the day. He had hoped, when he had asked Mr Swithin to approach the Duke of Blackwater – his half-brother, whom he had never met – on his behalf, that there might be a reasonably rapid result. But it had been weeks, now, and he’d had no word of the outcome of that approach. He would have to ask Mr Swithin if, by any chance, the investor who had put funds into his business more than a year ago would risk more, now, to yet again rescue him from the loss of everything.