Deceiving the Duke of Kerrington

By Ginny Hartman

Hope Hillburn was born to a life of servitude and never once questioned her role in society. As a lady's maid to Noelle Parrish, she had everything she wanted out of life; a secure and honorable post, a decent room to call her own, and ample time to write fantastical tales of winsome creatures while her mistress, Lady Noelle, attended the various society events offered by the ton.

Lady Noelle Parrish knew that her father was anxious to see her wed but she never imagined he'd go behind her back and arrange for her to marry against her will, to a duke with a questionable reputation no less. Disheartened by the prospect of marrying a man she's never met and the possibility of foregoing a lifetime of love, Noelle makes the impulsive decision to flee England with an American gentleman she's only just met.

There's only one problem...

Lady Noelle's father, the Earl of Brattondale, would never permit her to marry an untitled American, nor was he willing to go back on his word to the duke. In her desperation, Lady Noelle convinces Hope to take her place after noticing an uncanny resemblance between them both.

Against her own better judgment, Hope agrees to take Noelle's place when she realizes there's no other way for Noelle to flee to America without causing her family disgrace. Thrown into a life she has only ever viewed from the outside, Hope must convince everyone that she is a lady lest her farce be discovered. She is confident that she can handle society's strict rules of propriety but she soon learns that guarding her heart from falling in love with an incredibly handsome, self assured duke with a penchant for snarling isn't going to be quite as easy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ginny Hartman
• Release date: Sep 21, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301087488

Ginny Hartman

Ginny considers herself an "accidental author." She didn't grow up thinking she'd write romance novels, instead preferring to read them. It wasn't until she started voraciously consuming Regency Romance novels by the dozens that she found out she had a problem. It seemed there were only two types of books; very proper ones that contained nothing but a dry kiss at the end, or smutty ones that included graphic bedroom scenes. Unhappy with either choice, Ginny set out on a mission to write a romance book that was somewhere in the middle, thus leading her to write her first published novel, Deceiving the Duke of Kerrington, which went on to become an Amazon bestseller in America as well as several other countries. In the past four years, Ginny has written and published fifteen romance novels, many of which have become bestsellers, as well as helped a handful of other writers realize their dreams of becoming published authors by tutoring them in the art of self-publishing. In her free time, Ginny loves to travel, jet ski, write songs, and learn all that she can about becoming the best person she can be. She currently resides in Northern Idaho with the inspiration behind her stories charming heroes; her husband, as well as their three adventurous children and a fluffy dog named Giacomo.

Book preview

Part One

Chapter 1

Pierce Chadwick, the Duke of Kerrington, observed his surroundings with disdain. Once again he found himself at another monotonous ball given by another over-indulged lady of society with too much money on her hands. The ballroom was filled with white hothouse roses and a plethora of members of the ton, making this event a veritable crush. Lady Sedgewick would be pleased. Pierce grabbed another glass of champagne off the tray passing by, quickly downing its contents in one large gulp. It was his third glass, and so far it was proving not nearly effective enough to dull his senses. He would have to go in search of something stronger, if he had any hopes of making it through the rest of the evening.

The endless stream of assemblies and routs were wearing on his nerves. He had never been prone to enjoying the festivities of the ton, often finding the endless dancing and keeping-up pretenses wearisome and tedious. But growing up as the Duke of Kerrington’s heir, he had all but been required to attend to keep up appearances, and of course, to look for a bride. He had often been rebellious in his youth, spending more time at his club, White’s, or gallivanting around with his cronies, than taking the marriage mart seriously. But since the death of his father two years past and taking on the title of duke himself, he was being forced to take his duties more seriously.

The duty that was forefront in his mind was taking a wife and producing an heir; not a desirable task if you asked him, but it seems that no one cared much about what he thought anyway. There may have been a time in his life when he wouldn’t have minded the prospect of falling in love, getting married and starting a family of his own, but that was all in the past. For season after season, he had attended every uninteresting ball, every wearisome garden party, and every dull rout, in hopes of finding that elusive lady with whom he would fall madly in love. But season after season proved just as ineffective as the last.

The ladies of the ton bored him. He had grown tired years ago of fortune-hunting, title-seeking ladies and their over-anxious mamas and found he could hardly tolerate their idle chatter long enough to endure a single dance with any of them. He knew his aloofness only added fuel to the already-burning fires regarding his reputation as a notorious rake, but he didn’t care. Let them think what they may, for the ton often did whatever they wanted in that regards anyway.

Setting his glass down on the table, he looked up in time to see a girl looking at him coyly. Not just any girl, however, but a debutante clad in a white dress, her hair expertly coiffed like almost every other girl in attendance. Pierce wanted to groan in frustration. He supposed she was pleasant enough to look at, with her ebony hair piled high on her head and her lips the color of crushed berries, but it would take more than an attractive face to lure him in. He knew there was one thing only on the minds of any debutante, and that was catching a husband, the bigger the title the better. He quickly turned on his heel, heading in the opposite direction before the girl could get close enough to trap him into what would inevitably be a never-ending dance filled with pathetic attempts at flirtation.

Pierce exited the ballroom, relieved to get out of the stifling heat, and began wandering down the long hall, seeking other distractions to take his mind off his current search for an acceptable wife. He poked his head into a room that had been set up for gaming and quickly entered, knowing that a game or two of piquet would be the perfect diversion.

Well, if it isn’t the Duke of Kerrington. Pierce’s good friend Elliot, the Viscount Martineau, sauntered towards Pierce, a drink in one hand and his other arm going clumsily around the duke’s shoulders, obviously already deep in his cups. If there was one person who hated parties more than he, it was Lord Martineau. He was constantly sought out by various women of the ton who thought it was tragically romantic that he had vowed to never fall in love again after his first and only love had disappeared mysteriously. They found him a challenge and often made bets to see who could get him to fall in love with them first. So far there had been no winners.

Let me guess, Martineau, you’ve already gambled away your vast fortune and entire estate and are looking for me to bail you out? Kerrington asked facetiously, thumping the other man good-naturedly on the back as he spoke.

Hardly, Your Grace, though I do admit that the Earl of Brattondale is playing a fine hand tonight. I have already lost to him twice.

Suddenly Pierce’s interest was piqued. Elliot rarely gambled, and when he did, he rarely lost. Really? he asked, one dark eyebrow raised. Which one is Lord Brattondale?

The nearly bald man in the corner, Lord Martineau replied.

Pierce quickly scanned the dim room, his eyes landing on the portly, bald man sitting rigidly in his chair, intent on the game before him. Pierce instantly decided he would be his next opponent, feeling more enlivened by the prospect of a rousing card game than of entering the crowded ballroom once again. His feet ached at the prospect of finding himself subject to more tiresome dancing. He made his way across the room and waited patiently for Lord Brattondale to finish his hand before sitting down in the empty chair at the table across from him and offering to play.

Ah, think you can best me, now do you? Lord Brattondale’s chest puffed out in conceit, as he poured himself a measure of brandy from the crystal decanter sitting on the table next to him.

I’d say I am willing to give it a try. Pierce replied nonchalantly.

Well then, what say we make this exciting, Your Grace. I am finding I’m growing tired of these conservative wagers. How about a hundred pounds?

Pierce sat back casually in his chair, crossing his legs and putting his hands behind his head. I am not destitute. I dare say, I find a hundred pounds does not quite pique my interest. He watched as the earl’s eyes took on a greedy glint.

Two hundred then? he asked hopefully, clearly confident in his ability to best the duke.

Your paltry sums don’t interest me. I am a man of great wealth, or have you forgotten? Pierce knew he sounded conceited, but he didn’t care. He may not be personally acquainted with every member of the ton, but he was well aware that most every one of them knew who he was. His father had been one of the wealthiest men in London, and Pierce had inherited all of his father’s wealth along with his title two years prior. Besides, something had come over him, and he suddenly found himself much more interested in goading the earl than winning a few extra pounds.

The earl sat quietly for a few moments, the wheels in his brain working furiously. Pierce watched his eyes narrow as he leaned forward and spoke animatedly, I think I may have come up with an interesting solution, Your Grace.

Pierce leaned forward, their heads meeting closely over the table. This could get interesting. I’m listening.

I happen to know you are in need of a wife and an heir.

That is no secret. All of London is aware of that, Pierce snapped.

Well I happen to have a lovely daughter—

You and every other peer of the realm. Pierce interrupted him before he could go any further, pushing back from the table and standing abruptly.

The earl barked back, You were the one who wanted to make this interesting. The way I see it is that we both have a problem the other one could solve. You have plenty of blunt that could come in handy to a man in my position, and I have a lovely daughter who could come in handy to you. What do you say we set the stakes at this: if I win, I get your two hundred pounds; if you win, you get my daughter’s hand in marriage?

If the earl had not been completely serious, Pierce would have laughed. What kind of man wagered his daughter’s hand in marriage in a game of cards? His first thoughts were that she must be homely and probably firmly on the shelf for him to be willing to bet her hand in a card game. If the chit was beautiful or came with any sort of sizable dowry, the man shouldn’t have any problem getting the girl married off. No, something had to be wrong with the girl.

Slowly Pierce resumed sitting, What’s wrong with her? Is she here tonight? Can I get a look at the merchandise before agreeing to the stakes? Pierce couldn’t believe he was asking the questions, knowing he should have just scoffed at the earl and his ridiculous wager but feeling oddly compelled instead.

Regretfully she is not. She took to bed with the megrim. Pierce rolled his eyes. Great, not only was the girl most likely ugly and a bore, but she had a weak constitution as well. He knew he should just refuse to play this silly game, but he was suddenly intrigued by the impudent earl and his asinine ideas. His mother, the Dowager Kerrington, was being rather insistent that he marry and give her grandchildren before she was too old to enjoy them, and suddenly the thought of attending many more of these events, trying to pick out an eligible lady to court amongst the slew of spoiled girls, seemed overwhelmingly unappetizing.

Without another thought, he quickly agreed to the preposterous bet, Well, Lord Brattondale, it looks as if you have yourself a deal.

The game started slowly. Pierce was fully planning on letting Lord Brattondale win. The earl had drawn the highest card during the initial cut, therefore allowing him to deal first, so he was already off to a strong start. Pierce figured it would be much less painful to give up a couple hundred pounds to the foolish man than it would be to have to marry his daughter. It did not take long, however, for his competitive nature to kick in. He had never been one prone to losing at the tables, and the arrogant manor of Lord Brattondale rubbed him the wrong way. He soon decided that it would do the man good to lose. And the more Pierce thought about the stakes of the bet, the more it started to make a sick sort of sense to him.

He had long ago abandoned the idea of marrying for love. He now realized the idea had been childish and farfetched, especially among members of the ton. And unless he wanted to spend endless evenings attending the various society events in hopes of finding a suitable companion, he might as well win the game and the earl’s daughter in the bargain. Besides, it would be better for him to marry someone who was fully aware that the match was made based on the outcome of a card game and had no pretense of love being a part of the bargain. The more he thought about it, the more the idea appealed to him. Thus began his motivation to concentrate and win the game of piquet he was playing.

He forced himself to be patient and allowed the earl to win the first three deals, leading him into a false sense of security. Just when the earl began getting comfortable and started to relax, Pierce stepped up his game and began winning his hands. By the end of the sixth deal, Pierce had very clearly won, leaving a stunned and angry earl in his wake. Lord Brattondale threw his cards angrily onto the table, his face an odd shade of purple. Pierce was not sure if he was angrier about not winning the two hundred pounds he so desperately needed, or about having to forfeit his daughter’s hand to the man who had just played him for the fool— apparently the first person to beat him in a game all night.

Well, Lord Brattondale, it appears your daughter has a wedding to plan. Pierce spoke flippantly. I have business to attend to and regretfully will not be able to meet my new fiancé for a se’nnight, but you can inform her that I will be paying her a call as soon as I am back in town. With that the Duke of Kerrington straightened and sauntered out of the room, leaving a stunned Lord Brattondale gaping after him.

Chapter 2

Lady Noelle Parrish could not stop thinking about the handsome man she had met earlier in the day; it had been quite an accident really. It was an unusually sunny spring day, and after having been cooped up in the house for the better part of the week, Noelle had been anxious to get out and partake of some fresh air and feel the sunshine on her face. She had convinced her lady’s maid, Hope, to accompany her on a brisk walk, grabbing a bonnet as she eagerly exited the townhouse in Mayfair she inhabited during the season with her father, Lord Brattondale .

She had been clumsily attempting to tie her bonnet in place as she vigorously walked down the road, Hope trailing in her wake, when she felt herself colliding into a solid mass. Noelle gasped, taking a sudden step back away from the object, when she felt two strong hands encircle her upper arms. Even through the thick spencer she was wearing, she felt the warmth of those strong hands and an odd tingling sensation accompanying the warmth. She focused her eyes on an expertly tied cravat, white as freshly fallen snow. She vaguely remembered hearing a low chuckle before looking up into the most striking green eyes she had ever seen, causing her to inhale sharply.

Pardon me miss, the man said, his rich voice soothing and distracting at the same time. She could tell by his accent that he was an American.

Noelle reached up to straighten her bonnet before speaking. My apologies sir, I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.

I can’t say that I mind. The stranger smiled a radiant smile that caused flutters in the pit of her stomach. Reaching for her hand, he placed a gentle kiss on the inside of her wrist. I’m Soren Johanssen from Boston. Pleased to meet you.

Nice to meet you. I’m Noelle Parrish.

From somewhere behind her she heard Hope clear her throat. That would be Lady Noelle.

Noelle rolled her eyes, not sure she cared to have her maid inform this untitled American of proprieties. There was something exciting about not having to bend to the rules of society and being able to be just plain Noelle for once. She looked back into Soren’s handsome face. How long are you in London, Mr. Johanssen?

He looked into her eyes before slowly perusing the rest of her body. When his eyes finally rested back on her face, his own face held a look of satisfaction. Not nearly long enough it would seem, My Lady.

Noelle felt her cheeks heat at his words but couldn’t help her own forwardness, Well then, Soren, it felt deliciously naughty to call a man by his Christian name, especially one she had only just met. I sincerely hope that I see you again. She looked down coyly before rewarding him with a stunning grin of her own.

As do I, Noelle, he replied, purposely leaving off the Lady. She knew it was wishful thinking to assume she’d ever have the opportunity to see him again. With him being an American, she knew the chances of seeing him at any society event was extremely limited, but still it had been fun to flirt with the handsome man with chestnut hair and startling green eyes the color of a spring leaf.

As if sensing her thoughts he leaned in close, his voice just louder than a whisper, I hear the ices at Gunter’s are refreshing on a sunny day. I may just have to find out for myself tomorrow afternoon, if the weather holds.

Was he implying what she thought he was implying? She held her breath, not daring to hope that he had been suggesting she meet him at Gunter’s, for fear of those hopes being dashed. The thought of seeing him again made her heart beat with anticipation. She must have taken too long to reply because he straightened and said, You do like ices don’t you, Noelle?

But of course. In fact, I think tomorrow afternoon might be the perfect time to enjoy one. She couldn’t believe she had just slyly agreed to meet him. Before she had the chance to back out, he winked at her discreetly, then bowed slightly.

Well good day to you, My Lady. Be careful where you are walking. Then he took off in the direction he had been initially heading before the interruption, as if it was an everyday occurrence for him to make plans for clandestine meetings with innocent young ladies. And for all Noelle knew of the man, maybe it was.

Noelle had spent the better part of the afternoon daydreaming about that brief encounter with the mysterious and handsome American. She kept fretting about her decision to agree to meet with him at Gunter’s the following day. She was deeply intrigued by the man, for he had sparked more interest in her in their short acquaintance than had any other gentleman in the entire three seasons since she had debuted. She knew her father, Lord Brattondale, was becoming increasingly impatient with her reluctance to settle on someone to marry. But that was an enormous part of her problem, she refused to settle. All the men that she met and danced with were either too boring, too conceited, too tall, too short, too plump, and too stern—the list could go on and on.

It wasn’t that they weren’t interested in her, for she certainly had plenty of offers of marriage and courtship. She just wasn’t interested in any of them. She knew that at almost one and twenty years of age she was getting close to being considered on the shelf, and as her age increased, so did her father’s desire to see her married off, almost as if she were a burden he wished to see placed on somebody else’s shoulders.

She shifted in the window seat of her bedroom overlooking the streets below and harrumphed, if only she could figure out how to meet with Soren the following afternoon. It just wasn’t proper for a lady of her class to be seen with a gentleman alone in public, and the thought of having her maid tag along was out of the question. Something inside of her was telling her that this man was different than the other men she had met, and if she was going to see him again, she preferred to have some privacy.

Just then Hope entered her room. It’s time to begin getting you ready for the Everston ball tonight. Do you prefer the lavender gown or the periwinkle one, Milady? When she got no response from her mistress, Hope glanced to where Noelle was sitting and was shocked to see her intently gazing at her, an odd look on her face.

Milady, are you not feeling well?

Noelle shook her head dispelling her intent gaze. On the contrary. I’ve just been thinking.

Some instinct inside of Hope told her exactly what her mistress had been thinking about, You’re thinking about that American gentleman, aren’t you?

She slid off the window seat and came to stand directly in front of Hope, closer than either one of them was usually comfortable with. Oh Hope, I’ve been thinking about his offer to meet me tomorrow at Gunter’s. I just have to see him once more. Then abruptly changing directions she said, I’ve just suddenly realized how much you resemble me. Isn’t that odd? Her voice was suspicious.

I hardly think so, Milady, flattering as that may be. Hope’s hand went self-consciously up to her hair and the tight bun she had always worn

Reviews for Deceiving the Duke of Kerrington

[Leena Aluru · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Very nice twist to te Prince and the Pauper. Hope is gutsy, but the Duke takes te cake. Absolutely likeable character.

[Melody Bacon · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

It was kind of slow and choppy. Kind of boring.

[Opal Morton · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

My favorite part was when the duke wanted to rush Hope to Gretna Green to be married. Your chacters come to life.