Love Wins

By Dalia Trevino

Only one thing can make the Duke of Alderburgh enter into a society that he despises.  For the honor attached to the Alderburgh name to be obscured by a scandal, not of his making, can Simon do what he must? Lady Georgiana Hazeldon finds her parents have finally made a match for her.  But the reason behind the choice does not endear her to the gentleman any more than his actions to her before they are introduced.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wings ePress, Inc.
• Release date: Aug 14, 2023
• ISBN: 9781597050180

Book preview

One

Carlton House London, April 1818

I know who you are .

Yes, Lord Evans, as does everyone in attendance tonight, Georgiana said her mouth widening in a smile.

No, I think you deliberately misunderstand. Your true identity is no secret to me.

Not by word or movement did she reveal how disturbing his disclosure was. She lifted an eyebrow in question, hoping her simulated confusion would mislead him.

I know who your father is.

Her first instinct to shrink away disappeared with the need to keep him silent as she took a step forward. Dropping all pretence of not understanding what he was referring to, she willed him to keep his tone low.

And I will not hesitate to let it be known who you really are.

Why would you do that? It makes not a bit of difference to anyone, she said quietly with a last bit of bravado to convince him of what she didn’t really believe.

Oh, but it does, he said laughing shortly. I’m a reasonable man, but if you want me to keep this to myself it will cost you.

She opened her mouth to ask him his price, but the question stuck in her throat. However, he saved her from having to voice the odious request.

Two thousand pounds will give you the security of knowing you’ve bought my silence.

Unintentionally she took another step forward simultaneously taking an involuntary deep breath in astonishment at the amount he demanded. She daren’t say what she really wanted. To be able to tell him she’d not pay a single farthing would have made her feel better. She wasn’t allowed that luxury though.

Music, faint and tranquil floated over her ignored, as did the loud tittering and gossip exchanged from both women and men in the long conservatory.

All of a sudden, her favorite cream sprigged muslin evening dress felt two sizes too small and she itched to pull off the long suffocating white gloves that reached the short puffed sleeves on her forearm.

She searched for something, anything, to get her out of the situation and spoke to the first person to come close to them.

My lord, she said reaching out to halt the man who’d nearly passed them. I am sorry you had to search for me. Of course I remember this dance was promised to you.

Thankfully, her savior didn’t dispute her words. Lord Evans inclined his head at her before turning around and striding off.

Letting out a tiny breath of air that he was gone and so was her problem, at least for the moment, she opened her mouth to give a thank you and apology to the man who’d come to her aid on her lips.

But she never voiced them for he was staring at her as though she were the vilest creature he’d ever known.

She didn’t recognize him and that was strange for she thought she’d met everyone who attended balls at Carlton House.

Perhaps, the man said with a steel edged tone. Your proximity is the problem.

She could but stare at him trying to understand what he was inferring.

Such unwanted attention, if that is what it was, would not be a problem were you to keep your distance.

Indignant outrage replaced her gratitude. His distaste and dislike were clear and that those feelings were directed at her took her aback for a moment.

In any case, I am pleased to have been of assistance. He nodded briefly before turning and leaving her standing alone in the crowded room.

Her mouth open slightly, she snapped it closed. What an insufferable arrogant clod head! Clamping her teeth, she acknowledged she’d been standing closer than acceptable to Lord Evans, but that wasn’t her fault. Well, not really and beyond that, it wasn’t very gentlemanly of him to point it out.

She narrowed her gaze on his retreating back tamping down the desire to pick up the ornately designed snuff box left on the sideboard table and throw it at him.

It probably wouldn’t hurt him, though, for he didn’t look like the slim prancing dandies she was used to seeing. Taller than her, she’d had to tilt her head back to look at him.

She had a discerning eye that she was proud of and she’d wager, too, that his simple, but elegant black eveningwear didn’t cover a body made ineffective with the idle pastimes so popular with the fashionable set. She didn’t think horse hair padding was responsible for the breadth of his shoulders. Nothing could disguise the width of his chest.

But she had another matter to see to now and she determinedly put out of her mind the appealing muscular body and judgmental cobalt blue eyes that belonged to a man who didn’t care for her.

Turning to find her mother she looked past the glittering, jewel covered women with their dazzling gowns all of the latest fashions. Overlooking the men, most of who were stuffed into tight knee breeches and close fitting waistcoats, she frowned when she was unable to locate her mother.

She definitely didn’t want Lord Evans to approach her again, so she tried not to be so obvious when she hurried to her friend Bridget’s side.

Bridget Mellinge had been her closest friend for as long back as she could remember. Growing up, their homes in London were right beside each other. But as well as she knew her friend she’d never told her what Lord Evans was now threatening to tell all of England.

Georgiana, what is the matter? You look pale.

Nothing, I am fine, she said, lying cleanly, but her friend knew her too well and looked to be about to question her more. To take Bridget’s attention off her and finding out what was bothering her, she let her gaze rest pointedly on the man who’d been so discourteous to her before.

Do you know who that man sitting beside Lord Beverston is?

Bridget turned slowly and Georgiana grinned. Her friend was the epitome of discretion. Neither Lord Beverston nor any of his companions at the card table would know they were being watched, at least not by Bridget.

Ah, I understand now what has you unsettled. Mother told me only this morning he was back in London. Up until last March he was away fighting for more than four years.

Yes, Bridget, but who is he?

Rich laughter was her response, but Georgiana didn’t mind the teasing.

Simon Alderburgh, the Duke of Westby.

Hmm. Georgiana pondered that for a moment. Perhaps his distance from polite society was to blame for his unregulated speech. If that was the case, she supposed she had to excuse him.

Have you set your cap for him then?

Georgiana jerked and glared at her friend. Indeed no I have not. He, well he is not at all what I am looking for. Besides, as you well know, I have no say in my marriage. It will be decided for me by mother.

Yes, I know, Bridget said her green eyes commiseratingly downcast before she looked up and flashed her signature brilliant grin. But it would be superb if she chose him for you wouldn’t it.

SIMON, MAKING HIMSELF comfortable on the deeply piled blue damask French chair tried to keep his gaze and his concentration on his cards and not the woman who he’d been so blunt with but moments earlier.

It wasn’t at all like him to behave in such a way, with an unregulated response. He shouldn’t let it bother him. She probably deserved all he said and more. More than likely he’d broken up a rendezvous with the man so close to her and had not saved her from his unwelcome interest.

But he could hardly blame the man she’d been with, for she was indeed a woman who invited men with her actions and her breathtaking looks. Though she was nowhere to be seen, he need only close his eyes to visualize the curve of her graceful neck, her thick chestnut hair piled on her head with small curls escaping to sweep and frame her flawlessly beautiful face.

It was the form of her body, though, that had attracted his attention first and made him walk so close to her and her companion. All so that he could get a better look at her.

The style of the day, that of evening gowns cinched high under the breast called the eye to the amount of flesh exposed above the round décolletage. Her figure was well defined. Voluptuous up thrust breast that tapered down to a small waist and he could only imagine her long slender legs.

Knowing he couldn’t spare time to find out more about her, and the fact that were he to do so he would no doubt be disappointed, had kept him from being the courteous man he had always been.

Unbidden came the memory of her dark brown eyes staring hopefully at him, then unease and finally, disbelief filling them. Simon clenched his fist for a moment as he strove to put thoughts of her behind him.

Turning to the men at the table, he nodded in greeting to Mark Walcotte, Lord Beverston. He was a friend of Simon’s, who was not the most skilled at card games. Brag, his game of choice, just happened to be one that he played the worst.

But Simon had no interest in fleecing his friend. The other two occupants at the table he didn’t know too well. However, their success was evident in both their good humor and the pile of money in front of them.

The play at the table progressed uninterrupted for quite a while. Simon’s gaze invariably traveled the length of the room to stare at the young woman he’d inadvertently aided or, alternatively, spoiled her tryst earlier. He was losing and it was because he wasn’t concentrating.

She moved out of his line of vision with another young woman and he searched the crowd trying to catch another glimpse of her.

Sir Taversham stood then, gathering his money and finishing the claret in his glass. My wife wishes for me to join her, gentleman. Therefore, I must oblige her. Good game, my lords.

Simon nodded, as did the other two men at the table. He really had to stay focused. This was why he’d come tonight. Not to gaze at the ladies set out in determination to find a husband.

It was not more than a second after Taversham had vacated his seat that another took it. No doubt, Simon noted sourly, it was because he’d been losing for so long he was going to be an easy target. Or so it would be expected from a stranger.

However, he was a good player and extremely lucky. He always had been and that was one reason why he usually didn’t play. More than one gentleman, whom he’d defeated, had informed him that it wasn’t really fair to his opponents.

Turning to greet the new player, Simon hid his surprise, then aversion. The prince regent, George, or prinny as his intimates called him, was on his right.

Dressed as outrageous as any of his set, and as dissipated as anyone who spent their life in the pursuit of nothing but pleasure, the prince regent’s face held a look of glee.

Your highness, Simon said in greeting.

The prince nodded, as he picked up the cards dealt to him and glanced at them before speaking. You seem to be having a run of bad luck.

The table erupted into laughter. Many courtiers came to gather around them.

Yes, the fates seem to have deserted me tonight.

The prince listened as it was explained what was required for the initial pot. He threw down what had been asked for, then nodded accepting the minimum and maximum bets. He waved his hand in the air when he learned of the limit on the increase in betting for each hand.

Yes, yes, let us play then, he said impatiently.

The game resumed and the populace surrounding the table began again their speech and laughter. Simon ignored the chatter and speculation and was finally able to concentrate on the game. He won the first hand and then the next.

Very good, Westby, the prince said his tone complimentary. However, Simon knew he wasn’t pleased.

Perhaps your highness has brought a change of luck to the table, Mark said and Simon knew he was trying to make the prince feel better about his losses so far.

In that case, Beverston, I should be the victor.

Simon said nothing and did not acknowledge the prince’s petulant response to Mark. Instead, he considered leaving the table. He knew he couldn’t though, as the prince would take it as an insult for anyone to leave before him.

Simon won each game after that, the pile of notes and coins before him growing larger even as the other player’s notes and coins lessened to an alarming degree.

Perhaps, your highness, you might like to take a break from the game, Lord Chancery said in a cautious tone.

No, the prince said testily. We will continue. I will show you, Westby, he said looking at him and ignoring the good advice from Lord Chancery. You will not be the only one to leave tonight with a heavier pocket than when you came in.

Not one to back down from a challenge, Simon didn’t entertain the thought of losing on purpose for more than a second. He inclined his head though he said nothing.

The play started again and the crowd around them grew slowly. The prince won a hand every now and again. It was the few wins he achieved that Simon could tell made him think he could be the victor in the end.

The hour grew late, but Simon wasn’t tired. Both Lord Chancery and his friend Mark had dropped out of the play long ago though they didn’t leave, electing to sit and watch.

I grow weary of these paltry amounts.

Simon narrowed his gaze on his cards at the prince’s declaration. It was just like him to disregard the limits set on the game. As he waited for him to voice the increase he wanted, Simon took in the prince’s long brown hair, streaked with gray and clubbed behind his head, but with large tufts escaping and sprouting around his ears.

Laying his cards face down on the table and crossing his hands over his considerably wide girth, the prince regent let out a long sigh.

Do let us make this more exciting, Prince George said then, excited pleasure making his voice animated despite his calm demeanor.

Simon had a good hand and wondered if the prince did as well or if he was just bluffing in a desperate attempt to win. He wished to be anywhere but here. But it was this or marriage to a wealthy heiress and he wasn’t about to fall into that trap.

As you wish, your highness.

Prince George’s face took on a look of intense delight. How about three thousand pounds?

The men and women gathered around ceased their incessant chatter and seemed to lean forward as one body. Simon didn’t hesitate to agree to the large sum and waited for the prince to show his cards.

The amount was four times what he’d already won this night and nearly enough for his needs, it would help. After all, that was why he was here. But if he lost, he would be in so much more trouble he couldn’t bear to think about it.

Prince George reached over, his heavily ringed fingers sparkling in the candlelight, and flipped over his three cards. A triumphant grin smeared across his face, making his expression almost comical. His courtiers applauded wildly and began congratulating him. He had a pair royal.

Fitting for me don’t you think?

Simon looked at the jack of spades, hearts, and diamonds without answering. He didn’t have to know everyone else was applauding the hand. It was just as well as the first thing that came to mind was court jester and not the royal persona the prince liked to believe he was the epitome of at all times.

Simon laid his cards face up, the king of spades, diamonds, and hearts. He watched as the prince took many long moments to realize he’d just lost.

Moaning accompanied Simon’s cards and commiserating words flowed over the table like wine down the throats of drunken courtiers. But Simon, hearing them, didn’t speak. He was watching the prince’s face flame an alarming shade of red.

Mark, Simon thought with amusement, didn’t show his usual prudence when he spoke to the prince. All told, your royal highness, you owe his grace a little over three thousand pounds.

Two

Georgiana longed for the hour that they could depart. She knew Bridget did as well when she complained for the umpteenth time about her tight slippers. But they couldn’t, none of them could until given leave to by the prince.

Georgiana’s mother stood beside her and Bridget’s mother beside her. The air in the conservatory was warm and becoming uncomfortable despite the open windows and large doors.

Not having had a chance to speak to her mother alone, Georgiana bided her time. She wasn’t looking forward to the conversation that would result when she informed her of Lord Evans’s threat.

Trying to give herself something else to think about she gazed around the gothic conservatory. It was a tad overdone, not a spot without a bit of finery upon it. But that was exactly what the prince liked about it.

The lords and ladies in attendance gathered around the prince, their fawning and gratuitous ways never ceasing. Georgiana, too, was watching the game from afar and tried to convince herself it was because of the prince and not because the Duke of Westby was at the very same table.

But when word began to spread about the amount being wagered she couldn’t help letting down her jaded view and being as astonished as the rest of the men and ladies. Such a sum to be won or lost on one hand of cards was unheard of heretofore.

When it reached her that the prince had lost, she narrowed her gaze on the duke. He’d just won quite a bit of money, but she wondered if he would ever see any of it.

It was a well-known fact the prince was constantly in debt. There would be many in front of the Duke of Westby should he decide to claim his winnings.

She turned her gaze to the duke and grudgingly admitted that he was very handsome. Not happy with his earlier treatment, the last thing she wanted to do was find something pleasing about him. His blue eyes gave nothing away. He didn’t seem jovial or upset that he’d beat the prince.

Just then, he looked up and met her gaze. A curios swooping invaded her and her senses leapt. Normally she wouldn’t and hadn’t been bothered by any man. But this reaction confused her and she was the first to drop her gaze.

Staring hard at her slippers, peeping out from the edge of her gown, Georgiana very faintly heard the prince speak.

It is late.

The room began to empty quickly after that, for with the prince’s permission his companions were free to go. She looked up then and noted with some derision that most of the people in attendance had lost the shine and excitement they’d brought with them to the soiree. Now tired and worn out their gowns, eveningwear, and faces showed signs of the long evening.

Bridget, come along. Sophia, Georgiana, good evening.

Waving to her friend as she left, her mother, surprisingly, walking briskly in front of her, Georgiana turned to her own mother. They were somewhat alone. She didn’t waste a minute, the chance of someone else coming up to them was still possible. And she didn’t want Lord Evans to think she hadn’t taken him seriously. He might speak to someone if she didn’t give him an answer and quickly.

Mother, Lord Evans spoke to me tonight.

He is not at all suitable for you, dear.

No, Georgiana said loudly and vehemently then halted at her mother’s startled look. He is not—I am not interested in him in that way.

Good, now then what is wrong?

He knows.

Her mother, in the process of straightening her gloves, halted. Georgiana didn’t doubt that her mother knew exactly what was wrong now.

What are we to do?

I will speak to your father.

Which—

There is Gervase. Shush we will speak of this later.

SHE WAS STILL AS STRIKING as she had been the first time he saw her. Tall and graceful she had a distinctive regal beauty.

You stare at Lady Hazelden as though you know her well.

Simon slowly turned back to the prince. They were sitting at the same card table, but now alone. He was silent for a moment giving nothing away. But the prince was waiting for an answer.

No, I do not know her at all, he said and it was true, he hadn’t even known her name until now.

You did well fighting the French.

Thank you, your highness, Simon said, wondering at the change in subject.

The country, indeed, I as well as my father, are proud of you and all our men.

Simon inclined his head acknowledging the praise. ’Twas my duty for King and country to immobilize the French.

You have not taken a wife?

Silently quizzical of the new direction in conversation, Simon knew it was a question, but he was well aware the prince already knew the answer.

No.

You are in the process of choosing a wife? Or calling upon a certain lady?

The only women I willing spend time with cannot be called ladies; consequently I would never consider marrying any of them.

The prince laughed heartily at his words and picked up his glass. At once, a footman was beside him refilling the expertly cut glass with the heavy port the prince favored.

Yes, but you have your father’s title now, the prince said speculatively, then lowered his tone to mutter to himself. Would to God that I could have my father’s.

Simon knew how much he wanted to be king. Everyone in Britain did. How could they not, with public proclamations such as the prince didn’t hesitate to moan about.

The one thing denied him for so long had been the cause of his loathing toward his father the king. And hadn’t Prince George been the single most important instigator in making himself regent while his father was ill?

I know you will wish to do your duty and produce an heir for your line, the prince said and Simon wondered how many times he himself had been told the very same thing.

I’ve plenty of time. Though I’ve not as many younger brothers as your royal highness, I do have two younger brothers, both of whom will marry and have children. Thus settling the worry of my line continuing.

Prince George opened his mouth about to speak again but stopped when he saw, as did Simon, two ladies and a gentleman approaching them.

Simon courteously stood; the prince didn’t move, other than to tilt his head back to better see.

Your royal highness, I could not leave without bidding you good night, the older but still attractive woman spoke first.

Simon said nothing as both women curtsied to the prince and the gentleman bowed.

My dear, Sophia, Georgiana, the prince said, then looked to the gentleman as an afterthought. And Gervase, I do not believe you have met the Duke of Westby. He is recently returned from fighting the damned French.

Lady Sophia Hazelden inclined her head at him and he bowed to her. Georgiana didn’t move in any way to acknowledge his presence, indeed her gaze seemed focused just beyond his shoulder. He wanted to laugh at her impudence.

That she was getting back at him for his shortness with her earlier was apparent to him, but her mother and father were both staring at her as if she’d taken leave of her senses.

Georgiana! Lady Hazelden exclaimed, shock tingeing her voice.

Giving him a slow mockery of a curtsey, Georgiana smiled unhurriedly. He heard the prince beside him speaking.

Most unusual.

It is of no matter, Simon said to them all. I’ve learned ladies can be forgetful of their manners when it suits them.

Lady Sophia gasped loudly with indignation while Georgiana clamped her lips together. Her brown eyes flashed and sparkled with wonderful anger and again he found himself wanting to laugh.

He also wanted to touch the pink tinged skin of her perfect oval face. A strong desire to smooth his fingers over the softness of her lips and ease the tight line,