A Duke To Die For

By Debra Glass

She knew she was playing with fire…and was eager to burn. 

Desperate and on the run from an arranged marriage, Erika von Ecker disguises herself as a cadet and joins the Prussian Army. At the very least, she hopes the scandal will condemn her in the eyes of the nobility. The last thing she expects is sharing very close quarters with a man forbidden to her, the devastatingly handsome heir to a vast duchy, Alaric Martens von Breidenbach.

All his life, Alaric has been groomed to take his place and title as Duke von Breidenbach. But first he must serve as a soldier for his king. He’s shocked when he realizes the coltish lad assigned to billet with him is, in fact, an alluring woman. Revealing her identity could bring dire consequences for them both. But, as war looms, keeping the intrepid beauty’s secret threatens everything Alaric holds dear, including his heart. He must do anything in his power to get Erika out of harm’s way—even it means making her more than his mistress…

*This title was previously published as More Than a Mistress

• Language: English
• Publisher: Debra Glass
• Release date: Oct 13, 2015
• ISBN: 9781513058986

Debra Glass

DEBRA GLASS is the author of over thirty-five books of historical and paranormal romance, non-fiction, young adult romance, and folklore. The recipient of the National Society of Arts and Letters Alabama Screenwriter Award in 1992, she went on to win the NSAL Empire State Award for excellence in screenwriting. She holds an MAed with emphasis in history from the University of North Alabama.Debra is a member of Romance Writers of America and the Professional Authors’ Network. She is also a member of RWA’s Heart of Dixie and Southern Magic Chapters.She lives in Alabama with her real life hero, a couple of smart-aleck ghosts, and a glaring of diabolical black cats.

Book preview

Prologue

Prussia, 1740

I won’t marry him. Erika clenched her fists at her sides. She stared down her father, Baron von Ecker, as if she could force him to change his mind.

She chanced a glance at her mother but found no sympathy in the baroness’ pinched expression.

I won’t, Erika repeated.

You ungrateful little— the baron began but Erika cut him off.

"Ungrateful? Ungrateful? How dare you when you are selling me to like chattel to cover your gaming debts."

Erika! The baroness had finally found her voice. Her skirts rustled as she crossed the room and cupped Erika’s shoulders.

Erika shrugged free. Hot tears pricked her eyes. She wouldn’t cry in front of them. Heat rose in her neck and cheeks.

It is your duty to marry the man we have chosen for you.

Chosen? Erika wished she could stop shaking. You mean sold.

She turned on her father. My brother hasn’t been dead a fortnight and you inform me it is my duty to marry a man who is older than you are?

The baron remained unaffected. This show of defiance is beneath you, daughter. One of his eyebrows quirked upward. Had you rather I offer Anna’s hand?

A shard of ice pierced Erika’s heart. She bit back a gasp. Her younger sister was hardly enough to be married off, especially to some ancient toad like the Baron von Ohlendorf.

Trembling, she gnawed her bottom lip. If only she could raise the money her twin brother, Erik, had promised. As a cadet in the Prussian Army, he had agreed that once he received his commission, he would send the money home to cover Baron von Ecker’s substantial gambling debts. But an illness had claimed Erik, and right now, Erika would gladly trade places with him.

I knew you would see reason. Von Ecker appeared satisfied.

Feeling cornered, Erika looked back and forth between them. There was nothing else to say. Nothing else to do. If she didn’t marry Baron von Ohlendorf, they would force Anna into it.

She choked on a sob as she gathered her skirts and fled from the room. Her shoes echoed on the marble steps as she raced up the staircase. How could her own parents condemn her to such misery?

Instead of stopping at her own door, she ran past, skidding to a halt at Erik’s room. He’d been her confidante, her champion. They’d shared a bond since birth and his death had rent a hole in her being that she’d carry to her grave.

Bottom lip quivering, she hesitated. She hadn’t been in his room since the day he’d died. Her hand hovered above the door handle, but only momentarily before she opened it and stole inside.

She closed the door behind her. In the shadows she could almost feel his presence. Just being in this space that had belonged to him calmed her pounding heart.

Servants had changed the linens and made the bed. Someone had begun packing Erik’s things away in a trunk. Erika released a faltering breath at the hard evidence that he was really gone.

She lifted the lid on the trunk and then brushed her fingertips over the Prussian blue of Erik’s wool uniform coat.

A sad smile tugged at the corners of her mouth at the memory of playing war with Erik. They’d drilled like soldiers and though Erika had not been allowed to learn fencing, Erik had taught her.

She lifted the frock coat out of the trunk and breathed in the scent of it, hoping to find some trace of Erik within the fabric. Her gaze lifted and she almost cried out when she thought she’d seen a ghost—for staring back at her from the mirror was the very image of her deceased twin brother.

Grim determination flooded her.

She would not marry Baron von Ohlendorf, and neither would Anna. Because Erika resolved to take her fate into her own hands.

Chapter One

Erika slid out of her black mare’s saddle and adjusted her tri-corner hat. She took a deep breath as she grasped her horse’s reins. No turning back now, Dagmar, she whispered to the horse.

But despite her words, she resisted the urge to climb back in the saddle and promptly return to Pomerania. Instead, she summoned the courage to walk toward the red brick officer’s hall.

The little town of Crossen an der Oder, where the cadets had been ordered to meet, teemed with men in all kinds of uniforms. Grenadiers with their tall brass helmets, cavalry on splendid mounts, hussars, and musketeers, all drilled side by side in the fields. It was a frightening and breathtaking sight.

Her heart hammered.

This is it, she thought. This is the great Prussian army led by King Frederick II himself. A tendril of relief swept through her when she recognized the drill formations she and Erik had learned together.

But could she pull this off?

Dressed in her brother’s Prussian blue coat, buff breeches and wig, she’d fooled everyone with whom she’d come in contact, including the old innkeeper and his wife where she’d spent the night.

The length of the coat hid the fact that she was hardly a well-endowed man, and the voluminous gold waistcoat hugged her body in such a way that her already small breasts were practically flattened against her chest. As tight as the uniform fit, she still preferred these clothes to her whalebone panniers and corset. The breeches gave her a freedom she hadn’t known as a woman—a freedom she was quickly growing to like.

A stable boy darted toward her to take Dagmar, and Erika passed him the reins.

Welcome to Crossen, Lieutenant, the boy said without so much as a second glance.

Relieved that he accepted her as a man, she gave him a curt nod as she hefted down her knapsack. Her confidence swelled as she climbed the wide steps of the officers’ hall.

When she had taken Erik’s letter of acceptance into the army and rode out of Pomerania before dawn two days ago, she’d never dreamed she would get this far. The least she’d hoped to accomplish was to disgrace herself by scandalously gallivanting about the countryside dressed in men’s attire so the old baron would refuse to marry her.

Erika had balked. She didn’t feel she owed her parents a pfennig. But it she could carry out this farce long enough, she could earn enough money from her soldier’s wages to cover her father’s debts.

She just hoped she could earn the funds quickly enough to save Anna from a similar fate.

The idea that her little sister might also be forced into an arranged marriage to cover her father’s debts was unthinkable. Erika shuddered. She would do everything in her power to protect her sister—even if it meant returning to Pomerania to marry the baron.

She took a deep breath as she struggled to hold her heavy knapsack on her shoulder as she looked with trepidation at the wide oak doors at the top of the stairs to the officers’ hall. Her hand trembled as she reached for the gleaming brass door handle.

Doubt surged, but just as she summoned the courage to go inside, the door burst open and she collided headlong into another cadet.

She reeled backward and would have fallen but for the two strong arms that seized her shoulders and righted her effortlessly.

Forgive me. The depth and resonance of the man’s voice filled Erika’s senses.

He stood nearly a foot taller than Erika, and she had to push her tri-corner back on her head in order to see his face.

The ground seemed to suddenly drop from beneath her feet. He was handsome—breathtakingly handsome. The longer she stared, the more rapt she became.

He looked like a fairytale prince or a god from ancient mythology. And although he wore a powdered wig, a stray strand of his own rich, chestnut hair had escaped. The deep blue of his coat matched the intense blue of his eyes. In a word, he was magnificent.

A wave of heat rushed up her spine and settled in the back of her neck. I...forgive me, she stammered.

He smiled a devastatingly handsome smile, dimples forming at the corners of his mouth. It is quite all right, Lieutenant—

The last syllable hung on his perfectly shaped lips and left Erika speechless. When she finally came to her senses, she blurted, Von Ecker, son of Baron von Ecker of Pomerania.

He offered his hand, and she shook it curtly. The heat of his touch sent waves of warmth coursing through her limbs and made her reluctant to release his hand.

Von Ecker? His brow furrowed as he wrested a piece of parchment from his coat pocket and unfolded it. His smile broadened. Yes! We are to be quartered together. I just arrived from Brandenburg. I am Alaric Martens, son of Duke von Breidenbach.

Erika’s knees nearly buckled, and it was not because of her heavy knapsack. He was a hereditary duke? And they were to be quartered together?

He went on, seemingly unaware of her shock. I am lucky enough to have a cottage to myself. There is only one bed, but it will certainly be big enough for the both of us. Some cadets are required to sleep three to a bed with all the influx of officers into Crossen.

She swallowed. Hard. A hot blush infused her cheeks at the idea of sharing a bed with him. She hadn’t anticipated this. How could she ever keep up her ruse if they were required to sleep in the same bed?

Are you all right, Lieutenant? You look a little flushed.

I’m fine, Your Grace, she said, lowering her voice to make it sound more masculine. But it is rather hot out here. She fanned herself with her hat, wanting to kick herself hard for making such an inane statement.

He gaped. It’s November.

What was happening to her? She quaked from head to toe, and she couldn’t seem to take her eyes off the duke.

If she didn’t get control of herself, she would certainly give herself away. She simply hadn’t thought far enough ahead to realize she would be in such close quarters with men.

Perhaps you should register with the officers, and then I will show you to our cottage. You look as if you could use a rest. Oh, and please, let us dispense with the titles. We are all cadets here, are we not?

Erika nodded, but her thoughts hung on our cottage. Just thinking the words made her mouth go dry. Hoping he didn’t notice her trembling hands, she stepped past him and through the doorway, stumbling clumsily across the threshold.

Be careful, von Ecker, he called out after her.

Mortified, she gave him a nod. This was never going to work. Never.

ALARIC WATCHED THE clumsy little cadet skulk into the officers’ hall. What a strange little fellow. Many of the cadets were small, and Alaric knew he, himself, was above average height, but there was something different about Erik that he could not quite put his finger on.

Alaric had arrived in Crossen only the day before, and he knew what it was like to be in a new place. Some of the cadets had never left their estates before. Alaric, however, was well-traveled. As the son of a duke who had risen to the rank of lieutenant general under King Frederick I, he had been exposed to dignitaries and aristocrats from every country in the Western world, but this was the worst possible time for him to be away from Brandenburg. And with the Austrian succession in question, he feared a war might keep him away from home even longer than he’d anticipated.

Fingering one of the gold buttons on his coat, he turned his thoughts to his mother. He wondered how she had done these past two days. As her only son, Alaric had been her solace since the tragic death of his sister, Marta, just last year, and with the anniversary of her passing approaching, he hated to be away from home.

The army was hardly his passion, as it was for most noblemen. But service was compulsory, and Alaric’s father had been insistent that he begin his obligation to the king before his marriage to the Bavarian Duke von Swieten’s daughter, Sofia.

Sofia was a much-sought-after bride, and Alaric’s father had gone to much trouble to arrange the marriage—especially after that scandal involving the Countess Mardefeld, Alaric thought grimly.

Guilt still plagued him even though six years had passed since he had even laid eyes on the woman. But he had been an eager youth, awed by the countess’ beauty and oblivious to the fact that she was titled beneath him. His jaw flexed as he recalled how he’d foolishly bragged about his affair with her—and how he’d recklessly ruined her reputation.

Impossibly naive as he had been at the time, he had vowed to marry her, regardless of the fact that he would be making a morganatic marriage—which meant he would lose not only his title but his inheritance as well. But that ill-conceived plan had been quickly quashed by his father, who’d threatened him with his life and had instilled the proper respect in him for the duchy.

The young countess hardly fared any better. She had been shipped East to marry some low-ranking Russian aristocrat. Alaric’s heart ached when he remembered the child he had sired in her—the child she had lost.

He took a deep breath and forced his thoughts back to the present. To the future. All that was in the past. He would not make the same mistake again.

Sofia von Swieten would make the perfect bride, and although Alaric had only met her twice, he found her to be a strikingly beautiful, charming woman who hosted sophisticated discussions in her salon. He should be excited about the impending marriage but curiously, he felt indifferent to it all.

He expelled a sigh. He had much rather be at his own townhouse in Berlin poring over his medical books, even though his study of medicine infuriated his father. Doctoring was for commoners, Maximilian had said.

His father had carefully planned for Alaric to follow in his footsteps and make a career of the military—and although Alaric was hardly interested in military advancement, he was well aware of the dictates of his title and duty to his country.

Finally, Erik appeared in the doorway once more, arresting Alaric’s dismal thoughts.

Come with me. I will show you to our cottage, he said, motioning with his hand.

Erik’s frightened stare reminded Alaric of a nervous goat. He hardly looked old enough to be serving in the army. But then, at twenty-six, Alaric was older than most of the cadets because he had put off his service due to the death of his sister.

How old are you? Alaric asked attempting to make conversation with the quiet boy.

Twenty-one.

Did you bring a servant with you?

Erik shook his head.

Unfortunately, neither did I. My father thinks this will build my character. Alaric gave a sardonic laugh, but Erik only nodded.

He resisted the temptation to blow out a sigh. As if serving in the army was not bad enough, he was forced to quarter with this strange little man who struggled to carry his knapsack as if it were laden with bricks.

Perhaps a night at the tavern with Liesl would loosen him up a bit.

ERIKA STOOD IN THE threshold of the cottage contemplating whether to go in or not. It was small, only two rooms. How was she ever going to keep her identity a secret in such close quarters?

The duke brushed past her as he strode through the door. Erika’s insides twisted into a mass of trembling nerves. This was not going to work. She should saddle Dagmar and head back to Pomerania immediately. But then she reminded herself of Anna.

Erika took a deep breath. She was stalwart enough to survive a marriage to a nasty old man like von Ohlendorf, but Anna was not and Erika did not have the heart to doom her to such an existence.

Aren’t you coming inside?

Alaric’s voice resounded in the tiny cottage. He raked his powdered wig off and tossed it on the oaken table. Erika’s pulse skittered when he burrowed his fingers through his thick hair. His easy manner teemed with masculinity as he straddled one of the oak benches and rested his elbow on the table.

Von Ecker?

She blinked and forced her feet to carry her into the cottage. The duke’s buff breeches strained at the knees revealing solid, muscular legs and an indecent bulge at the juncture of his thighs.

Averting her gaze, she let her knapsack slide off her shoulder and onto the table, relieved to be rid of its weight. She sank onto the bench opposite the duke, straddling it the way he had done.

Past his shoulder, she glimpsed the bedroom—and the one narrow bed inside.

What the devil do you have in that bag? he asked.

"The Regulations."

He gave her a sardonic grin. You’re quite serious about this soldiering, aren’t you?

Aren’t you?

Serious enough to be concerned about a war.

War? Erika couldn’t conceal her surprise. She hadn’t counted on any war.

You haven’t heard? he asked incredulously.

I...I’ve been ill, she lied.

It’s the damned Austrians of course.

The Austrians?

Silesia. We are going to take it.

Oh, Erika said simply, but inside, she quaked. A war might take her away from Crossen, farther from home. If she continued in this fraud, she would be commanding soldiers in the field. The thought of such a responsibility both terrified and exhilarated her.

There won’t be any fighting, Alaric said with a shrug of his shoulder. There are as many Protestants as Catholics there, and they won’t resist us. Besides, Maria Theresa has no power. No woman is capable of leading an army.

Erika chafed at his words. She recalled discussing the Pragmatic Sanction with Erik, which gave Maria Theresa the throne of the Austrian Empire.

The memory of her brother speared her with grief. She forced the emotion away. It wouldn’t do for the duke to see her undone. She swallowed the lump in her throat and instead, turned her anguish on the duke. Why can’t Maria Theresa lead an army? She is, after all, the sovereign, isn’t she?

Whose side are you on, von Ecker? he asked with a good-humored laugh.

Erika gave him an indulgent smile and turned toward the fire. Although his tone about women infuriated her, the rich sound of his laugh sent heat coursing through her. Her gaze drifted once again into the bedroom. The bed suddenly looked smaller than it had before.

This is not a classroom, he told her. You aren’t required to wear your wig and sword in here.

Her eyes widened. What was she to do? She couldn’t take her wig off. He would instantly know she wasn’t a man. Instead, she unbuckled the belt that held on her heavy scabbard and laid it on the table before gesturing to her wig. Small pox scars. I’d rather keep it...on.

He gave her a nod of understanding. I believe a small pox vaccine will be discovered, soon.

Vaccine?

Yes, an inoculation against the disease. It could be eradicated completely. I’ve noticed the milkmaids in Brandenburg, who’ve had cow pox, seem to be immune to small pox. There must be a correlation.

What are you? Some sort of physician? She hoped not. She blamed Erik’s doctor for his death, but even prior, she’d never had any respect for their quackery.

Medicine is rather an avocation of mine.

He seemed proud of the fact. Still, it didn’t carry any credence with Erika. Perhaps we should go over the regulations. I wouldn’t want to botch a drill, she said looking for a way to change the subject. She feared she’d fare worse discussing her opinion of medical practices with him than she had defending a woman’s right to lead an army.

She drew the big, heavy book out of her knapsack. Alaric took it from her, his fingers brushing hers in the exchange. Erika watched him as he slid it across the smooth oak table and began flipping through the pages. He was older than she was, with the fine features of an aristocrat. Yet there was something beautifully rugged about him. His countenance was expressive, thoughtful. But his mouth, although sensuous, had an almost cruel twist to it. Were he an actor, he could have played a believable archvillain as well the heroic lead.

He looked up at her without raising his head, the intensity of his blue eyes all but stealing her breath.

This wasn’t going to work. She hadn’t counted on being quartered with anyone, much less Alaric Martens von Breidenbach.

Alaric shook off the unwelcome thoughts consuming him and thumbed through von Ecker’s book, pretending to be engrossed in what he was reading. In reality, he wasn’t sure about the little fellow who sat across the table from him.

Women of all stations had thrown themselves at him shamelessly, and he was well aware of that look of desire in their eyes.

It was not unlike the look the young lieutenant was giving him now.

Alaric shuddered. He’d never been confronted with someone like von Ecker before. Having been brought up in an enlightened family where philosophy and philanthropy had been advocated toward everyone, rich and poor alike, he knew von Ecker’s type existed, but Alaric was definitely no sodomite. The thought of sharing a house, much less a bed, with a man who was interested in him sexually was appalling. He hated to think that he might have to set the lad straight.

To keep things amicable, he would just have to make clear where his interests lay tonight at the tavern. He was rarely the pursuer in his amorous adventures and limited his trysts to affairs and an occasional mistress, but such women hardly held his attention for very long.

In any case, the serving wench Liesl had been flirting with him since his arrival in Crossen. This would be her lucky night.

COMING TO CROSSEN HAD been a mistake. Erika’s nerves were tattered by the time she and Alaric arrived at the tavern. The place was crowded with officers and enlisted men alike. Tobacco smoke hung in a cloud over the crowded tables. She’d never been in a place like this. It reeked of beer, cheap wine, greasy sausages—and men.

But even given her hesitation, her fear was laced with excitement. She’d always wondered what it would be like to laugh and drink freely, to say what she pleased without being chastised.

She heard a voice call over the din of laughter and conversation. Alaric.

Erika was shocked that someone would be on such familiar terms with the son of a duke. But a friendly smile stretched across Alaric’s face.

This way. The heat of his breath fanned her ear as he spoke.

Erika gaped up at him, his utter masculinity rendering her speechless. A knowing smile turned up one corner of his mouth, and with a little shove to her shoulders, he ushered her through the crowd to a table of cadets dressed in their Prussian blue coats and tan breeches.

This is Lieutenant von Ecker, Alaric introduced. He just arrived today from Pomerania.

All eyes riveted to her. Resisting the urge to squirm away, Erika hoped none of these men would realize that she was a woman. She didn’t relax until they all stated their names, ranks, and welcomed her to the table. Shrugging off her cloak, she slid onto one of the long wooden benches.

Welcome to Crossen, von Ecker. The cadet sitting next to her slapped her on the back so hard that she coughed.

Two beers, Alaric called over the crowd noise.

A tavern maid sidled up to him, and Erika gasped when Alaric seized the woman around the waist and planted a shockingly familiar kiss on her mouth. The public display struck a chord of jealousy in her that rattled Erika to the core. But it only got worse.

Alaric playfully fondled the lewd woman’s breasts, which bulged indecently from her low-cut dress.

He finally ended the kiss but not before whispering something intimate in the woman’s ear that elicited a giggle from her. Erika recoiled at the sight of such a blatant display.

Von Ecker, this is Liesl. Alaric’s hand rested on Liesl’s ample bosom.

Erika clamped her lips shut, lest she gape.

The other men, including Alaric, laughed.

What was she to do? Erika nodded curtly to the bar maid, stunned when the woman winked at her. And then the woman had the gall to reach out and touch her cheek. Erika’s heart thundered against her rib cage.

Smooth as a babe’s ass, Liesl purred. When you get paid, come back and see me.

Erika stiffened. She hadn’t expected anything like this.

I don’t think your friend is fond of women, Alaric, Liesl said, cozying up to him once more.

He’s young. Give him time. Alaric fingered one of Liesl’s blonde curls before he sat on bench.

Erika was taken aback when he looked hard into her eyes.

Are we clear, von Ecker? Alaric’s voice was low and charged with warning.

Erika grasped his meaning. She bit back a gasp. He thought she was a sodomite! And no wonder