A Duke's son to the rescue (Regency Romance) (Regency Tales Book 4) by Regina Darcy

Author:Regina Darcy [Darcy, Regina]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Clean and Wholesome Romance
Published: 2016-08-03T04:00:00+00:00

EIGHT

Davenport stood in the grand hall of Uptrue Hall, an elegant estate strikingly similar to his own. The walls were lined with the painted portraits of the family’s ancestral heritage: the lords and ladies who had fought with the Duke of Battington, and sided with the Tudors; who’d supported Charles I and then, when he was beheaded, shifted their loyalty to his son through the years of exile. Davenport supposed that the history of England could be recited by the inhabitants of the hall, their frames capturing them forever as a tribute to their class and station.

Why did he feel so out of place? These were his kind of people, his father would have said. Indeed, had often said. Why did his thoughts continually return to the image of a lovely girl with a faded dress and worn-out boots whose smile was richer than an inheritance of jewels and titles and ermine? What was it about Charlotte that had captivated him? Why had she stayed in his mind since childhood when she’d been an earnest little girl with a knowledge of plants? Belladonna. He found himself smiling.

A young lady of marriageable age, with a respected title and no doubt a generous dowry, caught his smile and assumed it was for her. Emboldened by what she took as an invitation, she approached him. “La, Lord Davenport, here you are, standing alone, all by yourself, when there are so many here who would enjoy your company.”

“I beg your pardon—” he stopped himself. Even the apology, merely a social courtesy in this case, conjured the thought of Charlotte. “I am blue-devilled tonight and not fit company for anyone.”

“I cannot believe it,” she exclaimed, tapping his arm lightly with her fan. “You simply need someone to cheer you.”

She was handsome. She was, in the fashion of the day, charming. His father would approve of her as the next duchess of Walsingham Hall. He could not see himself loving her, or any of those like her. She was not Charlotte. It was that simple, and yet that complex. His heart was destined for a gardener’s daughter and that was how matters stood. Did he have the courage to follow the direction of his heart? Would he defy his father, flout convention, and marry her?

If he married her, it would be an end to tailored suits, intricate cravats, elaborately-styled Hessian boots and the trappings of his class. His father would disinherit him. That much, he knew. There was no challenging the Duke’s sense of order. Marriage was for preservation, not passion. And if he were disinherited, where should they live, how should they feed themselves?

Davenport smiled at her. She was very handsome; it was not her fault that her beauty was something that would only appeal to a looking-glass. He wanted more than beauty; Charlotte had beauty and more. She had spirit. “You must meet my brother,” he told the girl. “He is cheerful and a fit companion for a charming young lady such as yourself.”

At first her expression revealed anger, then hurt.

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