The Last Duke (The Valiant Love Regency Romance #4) (A Historical Romance Book): Valiant Love, #4

By Deborah Wilson

Lady Valiant is facing the challenge of her life as she faces the murderous, handsome brute, the Duke of Cartelle.

Three Reasons Lady Valiant Chase Should Avoid the Dashing Duke of Cartelle:

1- He's a murderer, a brute, and will challenge any man to a duel for the barest of slights- including those gentlemen who offend her.

2- He's a shameless flirt... and his kisses leave her breathless.

3- She's a widow and her first marriage was terrible.

So… instead of giving into the desires that build whenever the Duke of Cartelle is near, she runs.

But… Anthony Balfour, the Duke of Cartelle, will not allow Valiant to get away that easily.

Years ago, they struck a deal.

She'd find him a wife capable of loving the brute that he was.

Or… bed him herself.

And win or lose, he wants her.

But with danger around every corner, Valiant will have to decide the safest place for her to be. Far away from the man who's awakened a passion she never knew herself capable of?

Or in the arms of the last duke she'd ever thought to love?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Deborah Wilson
• Release date: Feb 7, 2020
• ISBN: 9781386486824

Deborah Wilson

As a young girl, Deborah has been an avid fan of Regency authors such as Jane Austen. Deborah has always been in love with the Regency era. Despite the fact that this era is filled with great social, political, and economic upheavals and happenings, yet there is still plenty of room for episodes of romance happenings. In this era, love was pure. In this era, one can still find men and women who would have the courage to express their love while living amongst strict social customs for courtships. In such times, romantic gestures could be small yet they have a beautiful, meaningful impact. It is Deborah’s desire that through her writings, one will find the courage to love, to profess love and to pursue love. And the reason is simple. Everyone deserves to love and be loved. Pure and simple. Deborah is the author of ❦ VALIANT LOVE ❦ series. While the wealthy and titled men and women of the early nineteenth century were known for their extravagance in dress and decor and the rules that governed ‘polite society’, she wanted this series to focus on something different. Honor. What makes a man or woman honorable and where does love fit into all of this? “Let good be thy fortune and honor thy wealth.” Read and find out now for yourself Sign up now to Deborah’s VIP email list. Why? You will never miss a new release. You will be notified by Deborah personally as soon as her next book is out. →⟫⟫ http://eepurl.com/dHxqRD And please don’t forget to connect with Deborah on facebook. She loves hearing from her readers and sharing her thoughts and writing progress. →⟫⟫ https://www.facebook.com/deborahwilsonbooks

Book preview

prologue

*   *   *

Two Years Ago

He’d made a mistake.

Anthony Balfour, the fourth Duke of Castelle, walked briskly out into the night and down the front stairs of the Ayers’ London mansion. He didn’t think twice about his plans to escape the party.

He passed a few people who were on their way inside. The overwhelming perfumes erased the filthy scents of the street. Some spoke. Others turned their eyes away. Not in disrespect but fear. There were those who took great measures to not gain his attention.

He stood at the edge of the road and waited for his carriage’s arrival.

He’d made a mistake.

It was clear now.

Lady Beatrix Gillingham was in love—but she was not in love with him.

He’d heard two maids speaking about it when he’d gone in search of his friend, Benedict.

Beatrix was in love with Lord Ayers’ second son, Lord Hero. A man who happened to be a general of His Majesty’s army.

Yet for reasons he couldn’t understand, Beatrix had agreed to marry Anthony instead.

It was likely she felt forced into it and if there was one thing Anthony would not do, it was force any woman to marry him.

Though Beatrix had been his last hope.

Not that he’d loved her.

Anthony had only loved once, and the experience had ended with bloodshed.

He’d never love another woman again.

But he’d wanted other things from Beatrix. He enjoyed her nurturing spirit and her honest heart.

Honesty was such a rare trait amongst the beau monde. Deception was nearly as important as how one wore their jacket. It even resided amongst families.

It sickened Anthony to the point that he’d decided many years ago that either he’d wed Beatrix or no one at all.

It wasn’t as though he cared to pass on the family name or even the family blood. He’d let his cousins fight for the title once he was gone.

His carriage arrived, and he moved toward it. He decided he would write Beatrix a letter in the morning to call off the entire affair.

He’d barely settled in before the carriage door swung open once more and Valiant Chase, the Countess of Beaumont, settled into the seat across from him.

Given a hundred guesses, he’d have thought this particular lady the last to seek him out.

Though he was invited to nearly every event during the Season—as a formality at best—only a few men didn’t fear him and only a few ladies bothered to engage him in conversation in the hopes of joining him in bed.

They liked the danger he presented, murderer that he was.

Lady Valiant fit into neither category. There had been neither fear nor desire in her gaze, and she rarely said a word to him, if ever.

He’d known her for years, both being children of dukes and all, but they were by no means friends. They were not even part of the same social circle. She kept her distance from most men, though she was always gracious.

Dramatic blue eyes held his, gazing at him over a striking nose with a long bridge that, if she wished, could always make her appear as though she were looking down at others. Even with her dainty chin and small pouty red lips, her nose should have left her face wanting, but it didn’t.

Her blond hair had been artfully done with curls held back and off to the side. A few graced her face from her temples and forehead.

Had Lady Valiant come in the hopes of going home with him?

Though he’d never allowed himself a moment to entertain the thought—since he didn’t sleep with married women no matter how much they begged for it and surely never Valiant, with how much her husband seemed to fawn over her at every turn—he did so now.

His heart raced at the very thought, and he told himself not to rush to such a conclusion.

He wondered at her presence but decided he would allow her to speak first. He found it better to let others expose themselves before he revealed his own hand.

She took a breath and folded her hands in her lap. She licked her lips and looked away momentarily. Was she nervous?

Perhaps she’d come to him for carnal reasons after all.

His blood began to head south, both disgusting and intriguing him. He didn’t touch married women. Hadn’t in years.

She looked at him again. I can’t allow you to do this.

He’d never noticed the quality of her voice before, but now he realized just how much he liked it. Soft and velvety. Feminine.

You can’t marry Lady Beatrix. She is in love with my brother.

Ah, so she’d come to play hero for her brother Hero.

Anthony should have known that was why she’d come to him.

She hadn’t seemed the sort who wished to test danger.

Yet, clearly, she would for her family.

A pang touched his chest, but it didn’t hurt enough to quiet his growing arousal.

He was both glad and angered that she’d not come to him for sex.

The tightening around his lungs was also something he didn’t enjoy. He put his annoyance into his voice. The lady has already agreed to the match.

Why didn’t he tell her he was going to call off the wedding and be done with this conversation?

Perhaps, it was because he rarely had a chance to speak to women like her.

Soft.

Graceful.

Honest.

Though he was certain Lord Beaumont found great pleasure with her in bed—for what man wouldn’t if he was married to her?— Anthony was almost certain that sharing any of his desires with her would make her faint.

He didn’t know why he was so certain, but there seemed to be an innocent air about her.

And he had to question her intellect, for she courted danger out in the middle of the night alone.

I will do as I please, he said, wishing he could say more.

Her eyes widened at his words. But she doesn’t love you.

I’m not looking for her love. He wasn’t. Doing so would be foolish.

But don’t you wish for a wife who loves you?

He chuckled. My lady, I’m a duke. Beatrix is the daughter of an earl. That is all that I require.

She looked pained at the thought and stared down at her hands. That’s very unfortunate, Your Grace.

Another pang. If this is the only reason you’ve come...

Her head came up. Why else would I have come?

She genuinely wished to know, and it showed her naivety. Her innocence.

He was suddenly very tempted to test her innocence. The fact that she’d not used more caution irritated him just as much as it infuriated him that he cared at all.

He leaned forward. Oh, there are many reasons a lady would seek me out. Care to learn? He stopped a breath before her.

And sure enough, her skin paled right before it colored. Then she said the most bizarre thing he’d ever heard in his life. You wish to bed me?

Bed implies that I need one, which I don’t. I could take you right here in this carriage.

Her perfectly pink mouth fell open in surprise. But I would be no better suited for you than Beatrix. I don’t love you.

He stared at her and then he threw back his head and laughed. The force of it pushed him back onto his side of the carriage.

The only other lady who’d ever made him laugh was Beatrix.

Valiant was so innocent and beautiful. The fairest of them all.

Bedding does not require love, Snow White, he told her. The laughter faded as he was reminded once again of the lady’s love for her husband. Was that the reason for her bizarre ideology about sex? If so, then Beaumont was a saint.

Still, he noticed something flash in her eyes at his words before she lowered her gaze again. Of course...

Of course?

Now he was curious.

She looked up. Why did you call me Snow White?

Because, you remind me of her. The German tale had been written a few years ago. Innocent. Naive for venturing out here when the world thinks me dangerous.

She lifted a brow. Are you my huntsman then?

My huntsman.

Did she even know what she’d just implied? Likely not. He had no ambitions of cutting the lady’s heart out. Instead, there was another part of her he was beginning to want. He pulled himself away from those thoughts.

She thankfully returned them to their former discussion. You can have love if you want it. You’re not wed yet. Call off this match and find another.

What if I’m content with who I have? He wasn’t. Not anymore.

But you can have more, she pressed, seeming so certain of it. Please, let Beatrix go.

He shook his head even as he thought he’d give anything to have a woman fight for him as hard as Valiant fought for her brother. For her friend Beatrix.

At that moment, he decided he wanted her gone, out of his presence. She’d already begun to foster unease within him. He was almost sickened by her perfect family. Her self-sacrificing notions showed just how much his own family had lacked any morals.

But how to push her away? Or better, how to test her virtuous limits?

Valiant straightened. Do this and you will always wonder at what you missed by not having the one who completed your soul.

Completed his soul?

He laughed again, but this time, it was forced. My lady—

Lord Cartelle. She’d cut him off. A shocking maneuver. She was getting too comfortable for his taste. I am telling you, if you do this, it will be the biggest mistake of your life.

He stiffened as her declaration hit him with the strength of a prophecy. Who was this woman? She clearly knew nothing about him if she thought he’d not yet made the biggest mistake of his life. Every other mistake from here forward was just that... a mistake.

Still, her words had left him unsettled, and he was glad he’d already decided to call off the wedding.

* * *

Valiant Chase took one long, deep breath after another, though she schooled her features to not show her fear. Or at least, she hoped she managed to hide it.

Everyone knew how fatal it could be to test Lord Cartelle’s ire, though she’d yet to hear anything as it pertained to women. Only men ever seemed in great peril, since women could not be called into a duel.

So, she’d watched him leave and then followed.

She hadn’t realized how large Cartelle was until they were in the confines of the carriage. She’d only ever seen him in a ballroom, a large space with tall columns and elongated decor that dominated everyone.

Yet in the carriage, he looked more like a caged beast, and his scent and heat had engulfed her the moment she’d entered. This was clearly his domain, and she should have known better than to enter it.

His silver eyes managed to strike out with his every unyielding gaze, and the black hair that framed his hard visage blended into the shadows of the carriage, making him all the more menacing.

Beautiful.

Frightening.

But she was not here for herself. She was here for her brother and the woman she’d grown to love as much as a sister.

Hero and Beatrix deserved happiness.

Even if Valiant only ever managed to have fleeting glimpses of it.

Get out, Cartelle suddenly said. My affairs are none of your concern.

It bothered her how easily he thought to dismiss her after getting into her face and alluding to... intimate acts.

She’d never heard such words before. Since she had been old enough to listen and understand. she’d always felt the need to put herself in the middle of everyone’s affairs. Her brothers often told her to stay in her place, but Valiant’s heart knew no place. She could not help but try and aid everyone around her.

Including Cartelle, it seemed.

He clearly didn’t think a woman could love him.

Which wasn’t true, since Valiant had heard that very day of a lady who was obsessed with the very idea. The young woman, who’d just debuted this year, saw Cartelle as some dark hero. An angel of death, both heavy on the angel and the death.

Valiant didn’t agree. She only saw darkness.

But if one lady could love him...

A thought struck her, and Valiant had a brilliant idea.

Break this engagement with Beatrix, and I will aid you on your hunt to find love. Though there would be no hunt. If Beatrix worked quickly, she could have the lady with Cartelle before the end of the week. The very thought brightened her night.

Cartelle’s brows furrowed together. Impossible.

Not at all, Valiant said, feeling better by the minute. "Let Beatrix out of her vow to you, and you will know what it is to have everything." A moment of longing tried to touch her heart, but she banished it. It was always better to think of others, to solve the problems of those around her so that she didn’t have to bother with her own life. It was an escape mostly, but what better escape than to make someone else happy?

She stiffened when Cartelle moved, but then relaxed when all he did was cross his arms.

He’d seen her jump and smirked. You believe in this love crusade, don’t you?

I do. She had to. She had to believe that love was real. She didn’t dare face a world that didn’t have it. You can trust me. All Valiant had to do was find that woman. What had been her name? Lady Precilia? Lady Payton? No matter. She’d find her.

Cartelle looked her over and sighed. Very well. I’ll call off this wedding.

She blinked. Truly?

He nodded. In exchange, you’ll find me a wife.

She shrugged. Agreed.

And when you fail... His grin reminded her of a tiger at the menagerie. She shivered with complete fear.

Not if you should fail.

He was certain she would.

You shall give yourself to me, he said. For one entire night.

Fear wrapped a mighty fist around her heart.

She would never allow anyone but her husband Noah to touch her. No one.

It didn’t matter that Noah hadn’t touched her in years. She had a duty to him.

No matter how tragic their marriage was.

Noah was kind and always made others believe they were happy. She would do nothing to dishonor him.

No, she said.

Then you’ve come for naught, he said with complete calm.

Wait. Valiant pressed her eyes closed and thought. She already knew a lady who wanted him and was certain her family would not refuse. Cartelle was a duke!

But there was a chance...

No, Lady Payton—if that was her name—would marry Lord Cartelle. Valiant would use all the power of as a wealthy countess to see to it.

All right. She opened her eyes. "I will agree to this arrangement, but only because I know I’ll succeed. However, I can’t imagine why you’d need me for the entire night. The act doesn’t take that long." It hadn’t with Noah, and she was entirely thankful for that.

Cartelle looked at the top of the carriage and shook his head as though speaking to the heavens. Done.

The carriage door opened before she could step out.

She gasped at the sight of her eldest brother, Asher.

Asher glared at her and then at Lord Cartelle before turning to her again. What are you doing?

Helping Hero and Beatrix—

Asher lifted a hand to silence her. Of course, you are. I don’t even know why I asked. Then he looked over at Cartelle. Call your second. We’ll duel for the woman.

Valiant gasped at her brother as he climbed into the carriage. He was the most sensible of them all. What was he doing, risking his life?

Cartelle grinned ferociously. A duel? I’d love to, old chap, but Lady Valiant has already convinced me that marrying Lady Beatrix would be a mistake.

Valiant relaxed... until Cartelle’s gaze found hers.

She’d always thought the crazed duke dueled because he craved the battle and blood, but apparently, something else drove him more.

Desire.

And for a moment, Valiant wondered if she’d made a terribly dreadful mistake.

∫  ∫  ∫

0 1

*   *   *

June 1817

London, England

Lady Valiant Chase knocked on the door once more and glared at the butler who’d taken his time about opening it.

The man’s expression held muted disapproval, but he said nothing as he took her cape.

Where is he? she asked the servant.

In the study, he said. Allow me to show you the way. He started before her and while a few artifacts caught her eye, Valiant was are too enraged to take in the townhouse’s extravagant design.

They turned down one hall and then another until the butler stopped before a partially closed door.

He opened it farther and announced, There is a lady here, Your Grace. Then, with that, he turned away.

Valiant watched the butler leave and then turned to the man whose throat she wished to squeeze. Your butler is quite rude. I stood in the heat forever. And then, finally, he opened the door. He didn’t even ask for my name.

The Duke of Cartelle hadn’t moved from his position since she’d entered the room.

He was in the middle of the room, bent, pulling on a boot.

Yet even crouched on the floor, with his head lifted up, he looked deadly.

His gray eyes watched her from behind that curtain of black hair that shined so true it nearly looked wet. His gaze descended before it progressed back up her body at a leisurely pace, not overlooking a single inch of her.

She didn’t have to wonder if she’d been found wanting. His darkening gaze was answer enough.

As had been his challenge two years ago.

Valiant tightened her fist to stop an onset of fidgets.

Then finally, blessedly, he spoke. My butler didn’t ask for your name because you wouldn’t be the first lady to visit me today. Or the last. He stood then, uncurling like a great beast before reaching his full height. And many of my lovers would rather not have their identities known. He took a single step toward her and then she was the one looking up.

Most of the men Valiant knew were taller than her, with her brothers being the tallest. But Castelle managed to make Valiant feel like small prey.

She thought the feeling to be attributed to more than just his height. His visage alone had made both men and women tremble. He was emphatically handsome. There was never any doubt or speculation.

He was so blatantly beautiful, with his high cheekbones and sculpted jaw, so perfect that many wondered if he’d stolen the reserves of others. The rest of the world looked rather dull in comparison.

And then there were the whisperers that said his looks announced him as the fallen angel he was.

He had, after all, killed his own father in a duel.

Other lords had disappeared over the years and all the ton believed Cartelle to have something to do with it.

It made him dangerous.

And foolishly alluring to Valiant, though she would never tell him that.

Never.

Ever.

She should be offended by his words.

How dare he imply that women visited him all through the day with the intention of sharing his bed?

And to imply that she was one of them was further insult.

Valiant was a lady. The daughter of a duke. The widow of an earl. A wealthy woman in her own right who controlled many enterprises in London.

She deserved his respect.

Even if it was against social law for her to even be at his home.

She decided to ignore that slight in judgment on her part. You rejected Lord Rosamund’s apology? she said, getting to the point.

I did, he confirmed.

She could not decipher his mood based on word or expression.

Why? she asked. He said he was sorry. The slight was to me, and I have forgiven him.

His brow flicked up and then he leaned close and whispered, But I have not.

It took a great deal of strength not to pull away... even though she could smell the pleasant aroma of his heated flesh.

Though there was the undertone of something else.

A flower.

A woman’s fragrance.

So, he did have a visitor after all.

Thoughts of Noah surfaced. Her departed husband had often smelled of other women. The fragrance had hardly bothered her on him, yet on Cartelle, it angered her. It made little sense.

She glared at him and recoiled. You can’t duel a man when it is me he’s offended. That makes no sense. I am neither your child nor your sister.

Thank God for that. One corner of his mouth lifted.

Her eyes were arrested at the action. His mouth could inspire sonnets. When was the last time she’d been kissed?

She blinked at the thought and looked away.

He chuckled as though he could read her mind. He was not kind to you. Therefore, he shall pay with his blood.

That’s absurd. We are not in the wild. You can’t go around... She waved her hands in the air as she searched for words. Demanding blood as compensation for every slight. You can’t mean to do this. Her voice was strained. Besides, Lord Rosamund was likely drunk.

Then he’ll learn to hold his cups better. All his former humor melted from his face to reveal cold cruelty. If he should live.

She was startled by the feel of his finger against her cheek. It trailed down her no more than an inch before he pulled it away.

He shall pay for his words, he whispered.

* * *

Anthony Balfour watched Valiant’s delicate color lift to a tempting rouge and had to restrain himself from pouncing on her.

In due time.

Since the moment they’d first exchanged words two years ago, he’d wanted her but had kept his distance, with her being married and whatnot.

It said much of his self-restraint that he’d waited this long to regain her attention. She’d lost her father days after their discussion of love and then, last year, she’d lost her husband.

And now, two long years later, finally she was here.

She’d broken into his domain once again.

But without the support of a husband.

And making yet another request that could very well