Historical Romance: How to Design a Duke A Duke's Game Regency Romance: Wardington Park, #9

By Eleanor Meyers

He's charming. She's skeptical.

He's a wolf in sheep's clothing, and she sees straight through to his heart.

It'll never work. Or will it?

 

Lady Laura Abbey has much adjusting to do.

In a matter of one year she went from

being a little seamstress … to a widow … to the heiress of the Season.

 

She knows nothing about London and Society, but she'll have to learn quickly if she plans to survive among the Ton's casual cruelty.

Ironically, the most charming rogue and scandalous gentleman of London lends her his aid.

 

And like everything else in her life, it'll come with a price.

 

Albion Kay IV, the Duke of Oakley, has never been known to play the part of gentleman until he meets her- a lady he finds to be so different than other ladies.

 

Lady Laura.

 

Everyone knows him to be a rake, but in one night, everything changes.

Fighting his past will be Oakley's biggest obstacle.

And Laura's will come in the form of fighting her attraction for him.

 

Can the duke change from his old ways?

Will the lady find love or heartbreak?

 

The book is a full-length regency romance in the historical romance genre.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Eleanor Meyers
• Release date: Apr 23, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393190615

Eleanor Meyers

Eleanor Meyers is a hopeless romantic who believes that one should breathe and live on love. She is especially intrigued by the love tales of the Regency era due to the juxtaposition of tradition and love in a very stylistic fashion. At a young age, she is inspired by the works of Jane Austen and Georgette Heyer.  There is a strong romantic appeal about that era and it is Eleanor’s desire that readers will take time to come away with her through her writings and immerse oneself in that time when love was so pure and intense. In Eleanor’s writings, there is a pragmatic display of human’s imperfections; hence characters who may be flawed in certain ways. In the midst of dealing with one’s imperfections, a couple found love, found hope in each other and in God. Eleanor incorporated messages of redemption, forgiveness and sometimes inner deliverances from the bondages that so held a character for so long. It is her belief that no matter how seemingly hopeless one’s situation might be, there will always be hope. They key is to wait and to believe and to hold on. So come away with her and be enthralled in the beautiful Regency era!

Book preview

chapter 1

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London

June 1828

I’m sorry, my card is full.

Lady Laura Abbey held her hand up to show the newest gentleman of the peerage the evidence of her words. He’d been brave enough to approach her, but Laura had already dismissed his presence in her mind. She’d barely looked at the wave of adorers who’d come to ask her aunt if they could take her for a turn around the room.

Old. Young.

Short. Tall.

Handsome. Ugly.

Wealthy. Poor.

They were all the same to her.

Predators. All of them. But luckily, she’d have to dance with none of them, for her card had been filled up by two of her three male cousins-in-law before she’d even stepped through the door of The Concord, London’s most popular club, servicing both men and women, and hosting the best parties on Tuesday nights.

She smiled, thinking about her new cousins. She’d only known them for less than a year, but each one already held a special part in her heart.

My father’s vineyard in Spain delivers the greatest of wines. The man before her was talking to her new aunt now and Laura hardly heard the self-indulgent conversation as she glanced around the gleaming ballroom.

She watched the servants as they moved around the marble floors with trays of champagne glasses. She watched as the best of Society reached for their cups, not once seeing the man or woman who held the tray.

Not once looking their way.

What would it be like to be invisible once more?

Ah, such dreams.

Laura would never be invisible again.

Last year, she’d married a very old gentleman who’d promised to show her the world and make her laugh along the way.

And he had, for the short time he’d lived.

Lord Abbey had been kind and sweet and Laura, for a few weeks, had lived a full life. It didn’t matter that they’d only been married in name. He’d simply wanted a companion and she’d been looking for a way out of the small village.

Their paths had crossed when Laura had made the wedding trousseau for Anne Elkin, the Marchioness of Yapperts. Lord Abbey had attended a dinner she’d been invited to, and they’d immediately made a connection. Laura would not say that her relationship with Lord Abbey had been one of daughter and father, since Lord Abbey’s jokes could be quite inappropriate at times, but their marriage had been based on a friendship that she would miss for the rest of her life.

He’d opened a part of Laura that had known no limits and no boundaries, and in his honor, Laura vowed to try and remember all he’d taught. 

Lord Abbey had died within a month of their marriage while they were en route to Greece, and, as was custom, Laura had honored her husband’s life by wearing black for the last ten months in mourning. While she was supposed to complete a whole year before making a public appearance, Laura was currently in the Concord’s ballroom wearing the lightest shade of pink her aunt-in-law could find, entering her first year of the Season as a widow of a very wealthy man.

A man she hadn’t even known was wealthy. Sure, there had been hints that he was a man of means. He’d once promised her she would meet the king himself, but appointments with His Majesty had been difficult to arrange. At his passing, she’d never guessed she’d be left enough to not have to worry about her next meal for the rest of her life. She could see the world, if she wished, travel endlessly without care.

If someone had told her that at twenty-five years of age, a dressmaker from Yapperts would become London’s most talked about and sought after heiress, she would have laughed at them. Now, the only person she felt like laughing at was herself.  She had no idea what she was to do as a lady. Lord Abbey had not been an active member of Society, so Laura had known no one except for the few people she’d met at the dinner in Lady Yapperts’ house... Well, them and the family Lord Abbey had not introduced her to. She’d met her cousins and their mother at the funeral, and it had taken Lord Abbey’s aunt a few weeks to warm to the thought that in Laura’s own way, she had loved the woman’s nephew.

After that first hurdle, the Dowager Countess of Pengross had taken to Laura as though she were her own daughter... and had even tried to push one of her own sons on Laura. However, Laura had looked at her new cousins with only friendship and they’d done the same for her... not to mention that two of them were younger than her, so they had been very out of the question.

But, Laura, in Aunt Gwen’s eyes, was well past old age and needed to marry soon.

So here Laura stood, as the countess worked fast to fill Laura’s calendar with carriage rides, calls, and strolls through the park with any and every wealthy man who asked. Anything to see her twenty-five-year-old, ill-bred niece-in-law well matched.

When the gentleman who was speaking to her aunt pressed a kiss to her hand, she came out of her thoughts and smiled before he departed.

Laura faintly remembered bowing before he was quickly replaced by another.

And she felt the newcomer’s presence before he spoke. He cast a dark shadow over her, blocking the golden lights of the chandeliers from above.

Lady Abbey. The deep voice wrapped around her like a heavy blanket, sending a shiver down her form.

She tilted her head back and met a pair of startling dark eyes. So black in color they reminded her of dark nights when the clouds blocked the moon. Those eyes were chilling and set in a face that was both beautiful and hard. Dark brows, a broad nose, and taut jaw completed the masterpiece.

And then he grinned and his smile was unlike any she’d ever seen before. A combination of arrogance and intrigue.

What is his name? Surely, he’s introduced himself.

Her aunt seemed to hesitate with the answer. Laura, this is the Duke of Oakley.

Oakley.

The name quickly came to her memory. Oakley was nephew to the Duke of Wardington, a very powerful man who was said to rule London, but there was something else. A warning was going off in her mind, but she couldn’t see the root of it. 

She bowed and then brought her eyes back up to meet his. Your Grace.

May I have this dance? A striking melody of a waltz seemed to fill the room at just that moment, as if the very atmosphere paid tribute to him.

Yes.

The word was at the tip of her lips, but then she remembered that her card was full. And then she wondered why she’d felt so anxious to dance with this man to begin with. He was dangerous.

Laura brought up her wrist in offering. I’m sorry, Your Grace, but my card is full. And thank the Lord that it was. If London was full of wolves, then this man definitely led the pack. He was gorgeous. Tall with broad shoulders and a wide chest, well-dressed in a black suit that fit his obviously muscled frame better than anyone else’s in the room. His wore the seal of a rogue.

Her aunt quickly said, Yes, my lord! The previous frustration of Laura’s card being full was quickly replaced with elation. Her aunt obviously wanted her nowhere near the man. The lady’s card is full. I’m sorry—

Adam, Oakley called, and immediately a man who was obviously his valet appeared at his side. Pen, Oakley commanded. The writing utensil lay in Oakley’s large hand in an instant. From another pocket, Adam pulled out ink. So very prepared came his valet.

Laura was lost as to what was happening and jumped when Oakley grasped her hand. Heat spread from the spot that he touched. He flipped her card around and, with a flick of his wrist, drew a line through every name present, removing her cousins as though they were nothing, before filling his own name over the others in a diagonal line that cut over every other.

Those around Laura gasped and began to whisper.

This event would be all over London before the close of the night.

Her aunt stuttered to find her words, anything to appease His Grace.

Once Oakley was done, his black eyes found hers once more. He then lifted his brow in challenge. Might I have this dance, my lady? It was no longer a question, but a command from a man who was used to getting what he wanted.

Laura’s heart was racing.

Laura? her aunt called, gaining her attention. Her look said plainly that she should refuse... yet at the same time, she seemed very nervous about the consequences. Everyone around her had become quiet, waiting to know what she would do. Would she dance with this god among men or refuse him?

She smiled as Lord Abbey came to mind.

Live, he would tell her.

And so... Laura took Oakley’s hand and felt herself being swept into something that was more than just a dance, but the beginning of a new adventure.

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chapter 2

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Albion Kay IV, the current Duke of Oakley, smiled at the woman he held in his arms. I’ve a very bad reputation, you know. He spun her and watched raw surprise light her green eyes. The light captured the gold strands that highlighted her tawny-colored hair. She was pretty, but her beauty was not one that would make one fall over themselves to be near her.

Her money did.

But Oakley was neither in the market for her money or her charms... though the latter was still up for question. Never mind that her citrus-infused scent made him feel like he was walking through a field of oranges. She was a young widow, and Oakley hadn’t tried one of those before.

Lady Abbey never lost step in their dance and lifted a brow before a smile transformed her face, brightening her eyes and pulling her lips into a perfect bow. I suspected as much.

And yet you still said yes? He tightened his hold on her hand and pressed more firmly on her back.

Well... Lady Abbey’s eyes fluttered, twin waves of long lashes, and while on some women the move would have been taken as flirtatious, he suspected she’d no idea she’d done it. I’ve completely forgotten exactly what it is about you that everyone fears. It’s best I hear the gossip from the source.

He chuckled.

She grinned and lifted her brows expectantly.

Oakley drew his brows in, though a grin still pulled at his cheeks. You honestly expect me to tell you my wrongs? No good gentleman admits such things.

It is not a good gentleman I’m currently dancing with, she said in a low tone. Unless... the rumors are mistaken, which is completely possible.

No, he sighed, moving them in another spin with the other dancers. That, I will admit, is not possible.

Lady Abbey lifted her chin and stared at him. Her face was in a state of complete rest before a small tug lifted her lips again. I don’t believe you, Your Grace. I believe you’re a better gentleman than you know.

He laughed. Loudly. Drawing attention. My lady, you’ve only known me for moments.

And in these few moments, you’re done nothing but warned me of your sullied reputation, leading me to believe that your reputation is not deserved.

Oakley rolled his eyes. Lord Abbey must have been your first.

Lady Abbey’s feet tripped, but Oakley’s hold made it so that no one was the wiser but them.

He continued as she tried to get her bearings. I say this, because you’ve still your innocence if you see me for anything but a wolf in sheep's clothing. I warn you, because my motives toward you have nothing to do with me being a man and you being a woman. I come to you for legal reasons.

The music stirred again, and Oakley watched the crowd to make sure they were not overheard.

She frowned. Legal?

He nodded. I’ve a favor from a friend. May I call on you on the morrow?

Lady Abbey’s eyes widened. Call? I thought you said you don’t wish to court me.

I don’t, he insisted. This has to do with a matter for a friend. A friend who would owe him dearly.

Lady Abbey smiled mockingly. I’m sure.

He frowned. My lady, if I were after you, you would know.

Lady Abbey’s smile faltered... right before it rose again. Very well, I shall see if I have time for you.

And perhaps, we could go for a ride? Since you are a widow, I imagine I don’t need your aunt’s permission.

Lady Abbey laughed. Your Grace, this is all starting to sound a lot like you are trying to court me.

He frowned. I’m not.

Very well. She looked away. A ride it shall be.

He nodded and they fell into silence for the remainder of the dance. When it was done, he delivered her back to her aunt and began to move toward the refreshments table when his valet cut him off.

You are needed home immediately. The look in Adam’s blue eyes was serious.

Oakley frowned. My home? He’d moved into his own townhouse a few months ago, leaving his uncle the Duke of Wardington’s mansion after being called a bad influence for his four female cousins. Oakley had agreed with the duke and had left, feeling the need to be on his own anyway.

But he didn’t understand what sort of matter would be happening at his house that would put that look in Adam’s eyes.

What’s gone wrong? Oakley asked, already heading toward the door.

Adam was at his heels. I don’t know, but Mrs. White said to get you to the house as soon as possible.

Oakley frowned, now worried about Mrs. White. She was a very old woman, already in her eighties when Oakley had hired her. When he’d interviewed her, he’d been ready to dismiss her, thinking her unable to do the task of managing his five other staff members, but Mrs. White was professional and very capable.

The only problem that Oakley now had with the woman was that he’d begun to care for her, fearing she’d break her hip or back or even her leg while trying to get the most minimal task done. It drove him mad to think of harm coming to her. He’d already lived through the death of both his parents. He’d never known his grandparents, as they’d died before Oakley was old enough to gain memories.

People in his family had a reputation of not living very long.

But if something had happened to Mrs. White...

He cursed under his breath as his carriage arrived. If something has happened to the woman—

I’m sure she’s fine, Adam said, though he didn’t sound very confident

The five-minute ride from the Concord seemed to take forever.

Oakley didn’t wait for the carriage to stop before he bounded out of the carriage and through the front door of his home.

Where is she? he asked his butler.

In the kitchen.

Oakley raced down the hall, around and down another hall and then paused at the opening of the kitchen.

The small room was lit brightly and in a chair, with her back to him, sat Mrs. White with her head bent down.

Oakley’s heart clenched. Mrs. White?

And then he heard a sound he didn’t recognized. It was something so foreign he didn’t know where to begin placing it.

Mrs. White stood and turned around. A very serious look was in her eyes, but Oakley barely registered it before sliding down to the creature that held her hand.

A little girl, no more than two or three, stood at her side with dark eyes and wavy dark hair. Her head was tilted to the side as if studying him.

Oakley felt a chill run through him.

This is Amelia, Mrs. White said.

Is she your niece? Oakley asked.

Adam cleared his throat.

No.

Oakley lifted his eyes to hers. Granddaughter?

Mrs. White frowned. No, Oakley, she’s yours.

The little girl took a step toward him, and he stumbled back before he realized she wasn’t actually walking toward him, just moving restlessly around. But her eyes remained on him.

Impossible, he whispered.

Mrs. White groaned. Oakley, please tell me how this is impossible?

I’m very careful.

Adam, again, began to hack as though he’d swallowed something whole.

Take her back wherever you found her, Oakley told her and then to drive it home, he refused to look at the child any further.

I found her here at the front door, Mrs. White said and then reached for a note. Along with this.

Oakley stared at the missive in Mrs. White’s pale fingers.

The woman shook it at him. Take it.

He cleared his throat and then took it.

The note read very direct. The mother was dead. She’d claimed Oakley as the father before she’d perished. The girl had been born eighteen months ago. That was all.

Oakley put the note on the table and sighed. Well, she’s not mine, so do with her what is done with children who have no families.

Your Grace! Adam said in outrage.

Are you blind? Mrs. White looked as though he’d struck her. Your Grace, Amelia is the spitting image of you. It is as though you gave birth to her yourself! She looks like no one else.

She’s right, Adam said, moving into view.

Since Oakley refused to look at the child, he couldn’t be sure who she looked like. The child is not mine, but you have my leave to find her a good home. Spend what money is necessary to get the deed done.

Mrs. White sighed. Your Grace, the least you could do is see her for yourself. She is yours.

Oakley was done with this conversation. If you can’t do your job, Mrs. White, I will get Adam to do it. Take it where children go under these unfortunate circumstances or find it a good home, but it can’t stay here.

Adam murmured something about staying out of it under his breath.

"It? Mrs. White’s left eye twitched. Amelia. Amelia is her name. Say it."

Oakley turned to leave the room.

He was stopped by the presence of an unfortunate visitor.

He frowned. What in the world are you doing in the kitchen?

Sir John Abrams grinned and leaned against the doorframe, his blond head meeting the wood. His dark eyes shined like a man who’d just completed a very dark task. Which made the legendary criminal’s nickname, Blackheart, very accurate. He’d once been knighted by the king until he’d stolen royal jewels.

He’d been sent to Newport, where he’d lived for five years before being placed on a vessel toward Australia, where he’d been told he would live out the remainder of his days.

The thought of Australia hadn’t set well with the man, so he’d somehow escaped and London had taken on the habit of blaming the man anytime something of value went missing in England or abroad.

Most of the stories were false, but Oakley knew that some had truth to them.

But he’d known the fugitive