Improper Duke: Scandalous Encounters

By Kristabel Reed

It’s a good life, being London’s premier matchmaker and Camilla Primsby relishes the respect and position her skills bring her. But when the Duke of Axton stumbles into her life, things become ever so complicated.
Gareth, the Duke of Axton, has no need of a matchmaker to find a wife. Instead, he has set his sights on the matchmaker herself. But Camilla is proving to be a difficult catch. He offers her everything, but she wants none of it.
Will Gareth manage to break through Camilla's defenses? Or will he have to accept he cannot have everything—or everyone—he desires?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kristabel Reed
• Release date: Jun 12, 2016
• ISBN: 9781310903526

Kristabel Reed

Kristabel Reed lives on the East Coast and loves to explore the steamier side of historical romance. "There are so many sexy situations that didn't just pop up in the 21st century and my goal is to burst the myth of the prim and proper debutante."She loves reading, watching old movies, and anything Cary Grant. And is always interested in talking about erotic romance, so drop her a line: [e-mail]; or Tweet her @kristabelreed; find her blog: kristabelreed.blogspot.com

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Improper Duke

Scandalous Encounters

by Kristabel Reed

Copyright © 2016 by Kristabel Reed

Smashwords Edition

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A Wicked ePub® Original Publication

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This book is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

Formatted by: CyberWitch Press

Chapter One

LONDON, ENGLAND

DECEMBER 1817

MRS. CAMILLA PRIMSBY wandered through the crush at Lady Lindor’s birthday ball. She let her critical eye wander over the groups, the single young ladies laughing in a corner, who watched whom from across the room, who made it a point to be introduced.

She tried never to miss a thing.

She enjoyed everything about matchmaking and knew she was very good at it. A small smile flitted across her full lips. Camilla thought back to Lillian Norwood and wondered if the other woman took advantage of her slyly subtle match with Mr. William Pennington. She’d have to write Miss Norwood to see if aught came from that Christmas feast.

But that was neither here nor there.

Tonight, she had two items on her agenda. One was to see to Mademoiselle Lizette Fortescue and the Marquess of Montagu. They had courted for months now, and Camilla wished to see if it progressed to a betrothal, as she believed it would.

The second was to find suitable matches for the Earl of Hawkhurst. Camilla didn’t quite understand why the Duke of Axton hired her and not the earl himself.

Camilla stepped into the dining room and took a glass of punch. Lukewarm, it nonetheless cooled her throat in the heat of the townhouse. She stepped closer to the open French doors, where the cold wind eased the heat of so many people. The candles flickered against the breeze, and she watched a footman relight several snuffed candles as if his entire reason for being in that room was to do so.

She smiled at the thought, one that probably wasn’t too far off, and turned back to the room at large.

From this vantage point, she noted several eligible women for Hawkhurst. Their interview this afternoon gave her an idea of what he was about, even if Camilla felt the earl withheld certain aspects.

Withheld several things, if she wasn’t mistaken. And Camilla prided herself on being a superb judge of character.

Hawkhurst wished for a woman who did not simper or blindly follow the ton. A woman who knew her own mind. Financially shrewd though she need not necessarily possess a fortune.

Camilla’s first thought was Lady Octavia Granville; however, she instantly dismissed the woman. Her understanding was that Lady Octavia could not bear to be within five feet of Hawkhurst.

Pity. She’d make an excellent match in every other way.

Shaking her head, Camilla moved from the doors and back into the ball. She smoothed her hand down her sage green gown, the wool of it soft and warm beneath her fingers. First she’d seek out Lizette.

The other woman beamed when she spotted Camilla. Clearly a subtle interview was not needed, and she returned the smile. Beside Lizette, the marquess stood proudly, also beaming. Lizette turned to him and said something Camilla couldn’t hear over the roar of the crush, but Montagu obediently bowed, touched her hand with the faintest brush of intimacy, and left.

Lizette closed the distance between them in several quick steps and wrapped her arm through Camilla’s.

A curvaceous woman with a generous form, Lizette Fortescue was as bright and energetic as any woman Camilla had ever met. She knew Lizette and Montagu would make a good long-term match, despite Miss Eleanor Richardson setting her sights on the marquess.

Petty though it was, Camilla was pleased Montagu ignored the spoiled girl and devoted all his attention to Lizette.

Mrs. Primsby, Lizette whispered as quietly as the room allowed, I’m so happy. I can’t believe it. We are so perfectly matched, the marquess and I. How in heavens did you ever think of reaching so high for someone like me?

You are perfectly lovely, Camilla assured her. And a perfect fit for the marquess. He loves curvaceous women, she added with a wink.

Lizette blushed, but her smile widened. He does! Her voice rose just slightly as she added, We have so much in common, it’s frightening. And I’ve never felt so beautiful as when he looks at me.

She stopped and turned and said very seriously, "I’ll sing your praises forever, Mrs. Primsby. Whatever you need, whenever, simply call on me."

Thank you, Camilla said sincerely. It’s such an honor to have a marchioness-to-be as a friend.

Lizette laughed, a bright, happy sound that echoed over the din. Nothing could dull Lizette’s joy, and Camilla was beyond pleased for her.

Has a date been chosen for the wedding? Camilla asked, her own smile wide in response.

Lizette nodded. In two weeks. We’re staying at the estate until the winter passes. Then we’re to travel the Continent. I’m excited about the trip, but I know I’m going to enjoy having my husband to myself for several months prior.

Oh, Camilla had no doubt. And if the Marquess and Marchioness of Montagu didn’t announce a baby by spring, Camilla might just hang up her hat of the whole matchmaking business.

Tapping Lizette on the hand, she agreed. I know you will.

Several women tried to catch Lizette’s attention and Camilla smiled and stepped back.

Go on, speak with your friends.

Lizette nodded and kissed Camilla’s cheek before all but skipping off. Not the most decorous behavior for a marchioness, but then that’s not why Camilla matched Lizette with Montagu. The man didn’t need decorous—he needed vibrancy.

With a grin still hovering around her lips, Camilla turned and looked at the crowd. And there was Miss Eleanor Richardson, the Viscount Claybourne’s daughter. She looked more speculative than angry, her gaze focused entirely on Camilla and not Montagu or Lizette. Suddenly Camilla knew Miss Richardson was going to seek out her services.

There was something about the viscount’s daughter that Camilla did not like, and she refused to take on a case where a party was miserable. A woman who spoke whatever you wished to hear to your face, Miss Richardson was a vindictive gossip with no thought to whom she hurt with her careless words.

She didn’t often decline a new client, but even as she turned from the younger woman, Camilla composed her rejection to the viscountess and her daughter.

On to item number two: the Earl of Hawkhurst.

While Camilla hadn’t yet seen him here, this afternoon when they spoke he did tell her he planned to attend Lady Lindor’s ball. Quickly scanning the room, Camilla looked for him even as her mind once more drifted to their interview this afternoon.

What was it that lay behind his eyes? That pained, haunted look she glimpsed—there and gone. But it’d been there, she was positive of that. He served in His Majesty’s Army, though there was precious little information about his time and even less gossip, which surprised her.

Then again, over two years after Waterloo, people’s memories dimmed. On to the next gossip, the next scandal.

A handsome man with integrity and honor, he seemed lost. Always lost in the Old Bailey for sure, Camilla wondered if he was simply shy, preferring the law to society. If she did find a woman, would Hawkhurst open up?

She still didn’t think him ready for marriage, not with that haunted look he wore like a cloak. However, he was her next job, and Camilla prided herself on securing matches for all her clients.

Even the former Isabella Harrington. Despite the woman refusing her services, Camilla had introduced her to the Duke of Strathmore, and now they expected their first child. Yes, she definitely counted that as a match she made.

Humming slightly to herself, Camilla wandered around the dancers, watching them pair up and retreat, only to end up together at the end of the song, the perfect analogy for what she, herself, accomplished.

Oh. Camilla stopped and stepped back. She hadn’t paid attention to where she walked and had run into a tall man. Pardon.

She went to step around him, but he stepped back into her path. She frowned.

Entirely my fault, Mrs. Primsby, he said in a deep voice that rumbled through the air around her.

Camilla blinked up at him. I don’t believe I’ve had the honor of your acquaintance, sir.

Forgive me again, he said with a little bow. You were pointed out to me by the Marquess of Montagu. I’m Gareth the Duke of Axton.

Oh. She’d not had the pleasure of meeting Axton before, but of course knew of him. The duke had sent her the letter securing her services for Hawkhurst.

Your Grace, a pleasure. She nodded and curtseyed. If I may be so bold, it is rather peculiar a gentleman who retains my services for a friend and not a family member.

His lips turned up in a warm smile, and his eyes glinted with laughter. I’m sure. However, I consider Hawkhurst family.

Camilla nodded and smiled in return. How very generous of you, Your Grace.

She paused and studied him for a moment. She understood Axton spent much of the last year in Scotland, with friends, recuperating after the war.

His blue eyes were impossibly dark and shone with humor and intelligence. The candlelight glinted off his dark blond hair. When he smiled, a small dimple showed on his right cheek. Camilla blinked and forced her attention back on the matter at hand. Very rarely had she noted a man’s appearance the way she did