The Scoundrel Duke of her Heart by Violet Hamers

Chapter Three

The closed carriage bumped over the cobbled streets as the large buildings of London came into view. Lydia, the youngest of the Hearson siblings, was glued to the window, staring out at the majesty of the big city. Lydia was only sixteen, three years younger than Jasmine and four younger than Cecilia, who both sat inside the carriage without looking out, having been to London many times.

“Will we have time to look at dresses?” asked Lydia as she thumped back down into her seat, rocking the carriage slightly.

“We shall have time to watch the horses, and perhaps I will have more luck this year than last,” replied Donald, who sat opposite his three daughters.

“There are horses in the countryside, Father. Why must we travel into the city?” asked Cecilia. She did not mind the horse racing, but she did not like the business of the city nor the crime that seemed to be rising. She would not admit it, but the thought scared her a little.

“It is for the Season!” said Jasmine over-dramatically in a low voice, spinning her hand in the air in front of her and taking a deep bow. “We must come to London for the Season. It is the thing that is done.”

Lydia burst out laughing at her older sister while Cecilia tried to hide the smile that was appearing on her face. Their father sat impassively on the other side of the carriage.

“I wish that Mother were here to dress shop with me,” said Lydia.

The silence in the carriage was almost deafening, and Cecilia shot a quick look at her father, who had turned to look out of the window. The carriage bobbled up and down over a rough patch of terrain.

“All of the wealthiest gentlemen will be at the races, I am told,” said Jasmine, relieving the tension. “Father, do you think that the Duke of Pardey will be in attendance?”

Cecilia quickly elbowed her sister in the side, knowing exactly what she was implying.

“I hope so,” said her father, oblivious to the situation. “I rather enjoyed his company at our garden party last week. He was very charming, and the ladies seemed to like him.”

“Oh, yes, the ladies did seem to like him, Father,” Jasmine giggled as she turned to look at her sister, and she felt another elbow to her ribs.

“If we have time, I can take you dress shopping, Lydia,” said Cecilia, changing the subject. She hoped that her father was not looking at her, for she was sure that her face would have already turned bright red.

She had only spent a few minutes in his company, but she had not been able to stop thinking about the Duke. She had tried to tell herself that there was no reason to believe that he was interested in her, but that did not stop her mind from wandering to him whenever she was not engrossed in a book.

When she closed her eyes, she could see his luscious brown hair and flawless skin. He was handsome and charming and rich. There was chatter that he was a rake, but Cecilia was sure that the Duke was different. He had been every ounce the gentleman when they had met.

And his eyes! Those eyes had captivated her, and she wanted to look into them again, stare into the depths of the man who was just like the heroes in her book. She blinked and tried to wash the thought away from her mind, but she was unable. He had taken hold of her, and he would not let go. Cecilia wanted to have a good talking with herself. It was not he who had a hold of her; it was she who was constantly thinking about him.

“Sister?” asked Jasmine.

Cecilia looked up and found that the carriage had stopped. She quickly moved from her seat as she witnessed her sisters and father disembarking from the coach and quickened her pace, so that she would not be left behind.

When she was out in the fresh air, the hubbub of the event surrounded her.

“Ah, the Derby!” exclaimed Donald, taking a deep breath and looking more animated than he had in a while.

“I do not care to breathe so deeply,” said Jasmine with a laugh. “The air here is not like it is at our estate, is it, sister?”

“No, it is not,” said Cecilia. The smells were the least of her worries. She had never been good in places where there were large crowds, especially when she did not know any of the people, and there were more people here than she cared to count. She was sure that some of them were even intoxicated. She did not care for gambling Her father always remained sensible when he occasionally placed money on horses, but when men did not have their wits about them, it was a dangerous game.

“Come on, girls, this way,” said Donald. He stayed close to his three daughters and led them through the crowds, finding a place to watch the races from an elevated position. “Stay here, for now; I will be back in a moment.”

“Good luck, Father. Choose a white horse; I always find them so striking,” said Jasmine.

“Do not encourage him,” whispered Cecilia, before raising her voice and adding, “Everyone knows the black horses run faster.”

Jasmine laughed and held her sister’s hand, hopping up and down in the air, and Cecilia found it contagious. There was something in the air which caused her heart to fill with some excitement. Money would be won and lost, and all on the speed of a horse and the skill of the jockey.

Down below them, a throng of men, ten deep and at least that many wide, were in buoyant spirits and calling out as the horses ran past.

“I would not care to be down there,” commented Cecilia, running her eyes over the crowd.

“Are you sure?” asked Jasmine. “I do believe that I can see The Duke of Pardey and the Viscount of Marrow. And is the Duke not waving to you, sister?”

Cecilia looked to where her sister was looking and could see the Duke waving up at her with a newspaper in his hand. What she would have given at that moment to have had a book with her that she could bury her nose in. Yet, as if guided by some unknown force, her arm elevated, and she waved back to the man who seemed able to cut a handsome shape even from within a crowd.

Another race started, and Harry gave Cecilia a final wave and smile before turning back to the action in front of him. Cecilia realized that her hand was still in the air, and she quickly withdrew it, her face reddening. She shot her sister a look, and the moment was not mentioned for the remainder of the afternoon.

“I have heard whispers that the Duke was caught up in some scandal," said Jasmine as they made their way back towards their carriage once the races were over. “That is why he had to leave London.”

“You should not believe every piece of idle gossip that you hear,” said Cecilia. In her heart she wished that the rumors were not true, but she also tried to convince herself that it did not matter either way. What interest did she have in the Duke anyway?

He had the audacity to approach her alone at her garden party, yet he did not seem to be swayed by her reaction to his greeting that day, even if the anger was directed towards someone else. She knew that she needed to pick up her wits and concentrate on her reading. There was knowledge in books and men who were not as rakish as the Duke.

When she looked up, fear shot through her heart, and her stomach danced somersaults. She had been so caught up in her own thoughts that she had not noticed where she was going, and she was completely separated from her family. A crowd gathered around her, and she was swept up, moving as one with them, unable to see her father or sisters over the heads of the swarm.

Cecilia wanted to stop, but she was unable, and her breathing quickened. She tried to calm her heartbeat, but it was no use. Sweat dripped down her forehead, and she was about ready to collapse. She surely would have if a strong hand had not grabbed her by the arm.

“Excuse me, Lady Cecilia,” said the man, and Cecilia let out a gasp. She looked up as she lost her footing and found the Duke staring down at her. She tried to say something but was unable, and she felt the Duke pull her through the crowd and out into open space.

“I must apologize,” said Harry. “I did not mean to startle you, but you looked lost, and I wanted to ensure your safety, Lady Cecilia.”

“My father?” asked Cecilia, worried that she was all alone with the Duke. “My sisters?”

“Let us go and find your coach,” said Harry. “Would you take my arm? If only to allow me to guide you through the crowd and ensure that you do not lose your way again?”

Cecilia looked up as he smiled. He was handsome and powerful, and his face lit up like a summer’s day. She would never usually take a man’s arm when she was all alone, especially not in such a public place, but she did not perceive a threat here. She could see from his face that he wanted to help and did not have any ulterior motives. Yet, she found herself thinking about more than just taking his arm.

Cecilia placed a hand on his thick forearm, shrouded by his jacket, but the strength was apparent under the cloth. Harry placed a hand on top of hers and guided her back through the crowd.

“You must think me rather uncouth for spending my money on the horses,” said Harry as they walked.

“That is your own business,” said Cecilia.

“Well, allow me to show you that I am more than what you have seen,” said Harry.

Cecilia was not sure what he meant, for he looked every part a noble, even when he was among the regular people and engaging in gambling. He had obviously dressed down for the occasion, but his clothing was still elegant and stylish, and he stood statuesque among everyone else.

“My godmother is throwing a ball,” continued Harry. “I would be honored if you and your family would attend. It is the least that I can do to thank you for the invitation to your garden party. Everyone will be there.”

“I am sure that my father will be pleased to receive an invitation,” said Cecilia. She was not one who enjoyed large gatherings, especially those when she would not be able to bring a book with her, but she felt some excitement at the invitation.

“Well, here we are,” announced Harry.

“Cecilia!” shouted Donald. “Oh, thank goodness.”

“We thought that we had lost you!” shouted Jasmine. “It would seem that His Grace has returned you safe and sound.”

Cecilia did not risk looking at her sister, knowing full well that there would be a smile carved across her face.

“Thank you, Your Grace,” was all that Cecilia said before returning to the safety of the carriage. She could hear her father profusely thanking the Duke, and she was able to recover her breath again. She had lost it in the midst of the crowds, and it had been taken away a second time by the arrival of the Duke to save her.

As she listened to her father bidding good day to the Duke, she snuck a look out of the window to see the Duke staring straight at her with a smile on his face. She quickly ducked down into the coach and smiled too.

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