Falling for the Duke

By Roxie Brandon

Amazing value Regency three-story collection.

Charming dukes with attitudes and kind hearts. Lovely ladies who want to find love. You'll find all of this and much more in this collection.

This Regency romance collection is a sweet read with a guaranteed happily ever after.

The full collection includes:
1.From Maid to Duchess
Beatrice Harrington cannot remember her past. Where she came from, where she was going and how she ended up rescued by the scandalous Robert Erskine, the Duke of Daventry.

With no prospects or family, the Duke is her only refuge and she becomes a maid in his house.
Can she do what no other woman has yet achieved – steal the Duke’s heart?

This Regency romance is a sweet, clean, and wholesome read with a guaranteed happily ever after.
2.Winning the Duke’s Heart
Miss Charlotte Knight is in a terrible predicament. To save herself and her family, she must agree to marry Brigadier Roger Sterling, the Duke of Danby.

Is Roger Sterling heartless and cold? Or will Charlotte discover unexpected passion in her husband?

Will their arranged marriage spark a passion that lasts a lifetime?
3.Enchanting the Duke
Edward Ridgeway, Duke of Cumberland, mourns his wife. He needs a new wife, a marriage of convenience for the sake of his children.

Unfortunately, after the death of his wife, the Duke became a faithless rake and a heartbreaker. No woman of good character is willing to live under the same roof as him. Apart from the beautiful Amelia Winters.

Amelia is ready to love the Duke’s children as her own, but her biggest challenge will be their father. Since his late wife died, he wants nothing to do with his children.

Will the innocent Amelia win the Duke's heart? Will this be a marriage of convenience? Or has the Duke gotten more than he asked for? Could he be falling in love?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Roxie Brandon
• Release date: Nov 5, 2020
• ISBN: 9781005297886

Roxie Brandon

Roxie Brandon is an author of historical and contemporary romance, beauty and fashion books.Her romances range in setting from Medieval times to the Twentieth Century.She loves walks in the countryside and having afternoon tea with family and friends.

Book preview

FROM MAID

TO DUCHESS

CHAPTER ONE

France, 1817

The last vestiges of the setting sun disappeared over the horizon, the copper hues giving way to a dusty purple scattered with the occasional glitter of a faraway star. The distant skyline stood silhouetted against a velvety sky, the golden dusk enveloped by the twilight sky.

The stone path was punctuated with weeds after every stone. The disheveled, un-manicured lawn was more moss than grass and was over shadowed by huge weeping willow flowing down onto the dank and squishy ground.

Clusters of defiant daffodils reared their golden heads amidst the gloom and there were smatters of fuchsia alongside the scarlet and saffron hued primroses.

The garden reminded Beatrice of the Garden of Eden. How could it not? The Garden of Eden was after all, the perfect prison. It had been designed by God to fulfil Adam and Eve’s every desire. He’d given them the illusion of freewill, whilst all the while keeping walls around them.

Beatrice walked up the impressive stone steps that led to the house. The house itself was a red brick wonder that looked ready to stand any test that time might throw at it. Deep green ivy had started to grow up its walls. It too seemed sure that it would be a safe place to spend the rest of eternity.

Whatever are you talking about, Papa? Beatrice Harrington asked, crossly.

Her father, Lord Harrington scowled. You are to be wed, Beatrice. It is all arranged.

Beatrice stared at her father, wondering what on earth had possessed him to arrange such a thing without so much as consulting her. She frowned in consternation.

Dearest Papa, I have no wish to marry.

And yet you will, Lord Harrington replied, cheerfully. After all, you cannot simply stay here!

Why not? Beatrice asked, as horror slowly began to fill her chest. I like it here, with you.

The lie fell smoothly from her lips, but her father was not easily fooled. After all, he was the one to whom she had spent years complaining over how little there was to do where they lived. She had told him on more than one occasion that she was quite bored, and now, it seemed, those words were coming back to haunt her.

Her father guffawed, letting her know at once that he didn’t believe her.

It’s true! she exclaimed, in a desperate attempt to convince him of his error. Furthermore, I cannot bear to be parted from you, Papa.

Lord Harrington’s face softened then, and he gestured her to a chair. Sit down, my dear, and let me explain exactly what is happening.

Beatrice did as he asked, as a sense of foreboding enveloped her. It did not look as though she were about to escape whatever it was her father had planned. Her father was using the tone of voice he only reserved for the utmost serious conversations.

A very dear friend of mine has a nephew who is in need of a wife, her father explained, sitting down opposite her. I owe this gentleman a great debt of honour. My very life actually.

Your life? Beatrice repeated, her eyes widening.

Indeed, her father replied. When I first came to France, he travelled on the same ship as me. The sea was rough, and, without warning, a wave crashed onto the boat and dragged me over the side. Lord Edmund Langley was the one who dived in to save me, risking his own life. It is a debt I have never been able to repay. Until now."

Looking up at her, he quirked an eyebrow. Of course, giving my daughter’s hand in marriage to a Duke isn’t much of a repayment, given how much you’ll be receiving in return, but when I was asked, I simply could not refuse.

Do you mean to tell me that you have promised my hand in marriage to an Englishman I have never even met? Beatrice asked.

Precisely! Lord Harrington grinned, as though she should be more than delighted. The Duke of Daventry, no less!

The Duke of Daventry! Beatrice screeched. Papa, you cannot be serious!

Even here, the Duke’s reputation was well known. Rumors and whispers about his various dalliances, as well as his penchant for gambling, had made their way from England. She could not believe that her father would give her hand to such a self-indulgent man!

Her father waved away her concerns. That reputation you speak of is simply false. People expect a Duke to behave in a certain way when he is yet unmarried, and that is simply all there is to it. It is rumour, and nothing more. You must not believe a word of it, Beatrice. Lord Langley would not have asked for your hand unless he were quite sure of his nephew’s good reputation.

Beatrice began to feel nauseous. Has it occurred to you Papa, that he might wish for me to marry the Duke precisely so that his reputation is restored? Or so they might have access to my inheritance?

Of course that is not the case! her father exclaimed. He is a Duke! Even if he were a rogue, the ton would not care, given his title. There would be no reason to attempt to restore his reputation through marriage. You are quite wrong in this regard, Beatrice. And when it comes to wealth, the Duke is wealthy enough, without your inheritance.

Tears clung to her lashes as Beatrice began to realise that her father was quite serious. There would be no escape from this. Then I am to leave for England? she stammered in a choked voice.

First thing tomorrow, Lord Harrington replied.

What?

Yes. I expect you will need to go and pack. The Duke will be expecting you! All the arrangements have been made. You will be quite safe, I promise.

Bursting into sobs, Beatrice buried her face in her hands as her entire body shook. The shock of what her father had decreed threw her into turmoil, as she rebelled against the unfairness of it all.

She wished she had the freedom to do as she pleased, to marry whom she pleased, but it was not to be. Her father had decided for her, and she was not able to refuse.

The thought of having to board ship and to leave the place she called home was terrifying. Anxiety washed over her. She didn’t want to leave.

Beatrice ached for her mother, who, had she still been living, would no doubt have told her father exactly what a ridiculous arrangement this was. She would have stood by Beatrice’s side and refused to allow her to leave. She would have saved Beatrice from this dreadful unknown fate.

There, there, her father murmured, getting up to pat her shoulder awkwardly. I know it is quite difficult to imagine, Beatrice, but you will be more than happy with the Duke. Yes, you might require some time to adjust, but life with him will be vastly more exciting than anything you could have here!

I don’t want to marry a stranger, Papa, Beatrice begged through her sobs. Please, won’t you change your mind?

She looked up at him, tears shining in her eyes as she desperately hoped he would allow her to stay – but it was to no avail.

Lord Harrington shook his head slowly. No, I’m afraid not, Beatrice. As I said, it has all been arranged, and you are expected. You will be a duchess, my dear! Isn’t that worth a cheerful disposition? There are many young ladies who would long to be in your situation.

Closing her eyes, Beatrice took a steadying breath, aware that her tears were having no effect on her father and turning her into a complete watering pot.

There’s my girl, her father murmured, pressing a quick kiss on her cheek. Now, why don’t you run along and pack? I’ll make sure the maid is sent to assist you. Don’t worry about packing too much, though, for you are to have a trousseau once you arrive.

He gave her a wide smile and one more pat on the shoulder before leaving the room. Beatrice tried her best not to dissolve into tears once more, taking long breaths in an attempt to calm her frayed nerves. She would be departing for England come the morning. She was hardly able to take it in. This would be her last night under her father’s roof, the last time she would rise and enjoy her breakfast in the early morning colonial sun. From tomorrow on, everything would be different.

What would the Duke truly be like? If what her father said was true, then she could tell very little about him, but her heart told her that there was no rumour without some kind of truth behind it.

Men of high station and power, by default, had very little regard for morals. More than likely, the Duke of Daventry was everything she had heard, if not worse.

CHAPTER TWO

Robert Erskine, the Duke of Daventry, groaned loudly as the curtains in his bedchamber were thrown open. A stream of sunlight hit him across the face, making his head burn with pain.

Close those at once! he barked, throwing his arm across his eyes to block out the light. Whatever do you think you are doing? I shall have you dismissed!

The maid, however, was used to the bluster that accompanied him when he woke and ignored his orders entirely. Instead, she placed the breakfast tray on the small table by the roaring fire and left the room, clearly not in the least bit concerned over what Robert had threatened.

Muttering under his breath, Robert wondered whether he had enough energy to get out of bed and close the drapes once more before crawling back under the covers, or if he was best to simply deal with the fact that he had been awakened for a reason and was obviously expected.

The maid had evidently been following his mother’s orders, given how she had ignored his instructions, which meant that there would be consequences if he did not rise from his bed.

Groaning out of frustration rather than pain, Robert dropped his arm back to his side and tried to open his eyes. His head screamed as he blinked in the sunlight and he squeezed his eyes tightly shut for a few moments until he ventured to open them again.

Throwing back the bed linens and quilt, he walked across the cold wooden floor to the fire, dressed only in his nightshirt. How he had the presence of mind to change out of his clothes last night, he could not say, for he had imbibed a great deal of liquor.

Most likely his butler, the ever-faithful Joseph, would have waited up to assist him, although Robert could not even remember climbing the stairs to his room. It must have been a damned good evening if he could not recall a thing about it.

His stomach churned, but Robert drank the coffee and ate his toast regardless, knowing that, even though everything in him wanted to refuse to eat or drink a single thing, he was determined to lose his headache. By his second cup, Robert was beginning to feel a little better and he sat back in his chair with a sigh.

The day was bright, although it looked as though the sun was already beginning to fade. Glancing at the clock, Robert was surprised to see that it was already late afternoon – not that the time particularly mattered. He had become