The Duke's Promised Bride

THE DUKE'S PROMISED BRIDE

A Damsel in Breeches Regency Novella

by

Anne Marie Novark

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Fifteen years ago, a marriage of convenience was arranged between Quentin D'Arby and Vanessa Graham by their respective grandfathers. The union would unite the vast wealth and landholdings of the Graham Heiress and the Duke of Straithe. From a very early age, Vanessa has been trained and educated to be the duchess.

Now, as the wedding day fast approaches, she discovers she wants more than a marriage of convenience. Can she break through the barriers guarding the duke's impenetrable heart? Will she ever be able to win his love?

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The Duke's Promised Bride

Copyright © 2014 by Anne Marie Novark

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, businesses, characters and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, actual events or locales is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author or publisher except for the use of brief quotations in critical articles or reviews. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author

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Dedication

For my dearest mother.

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Epilogue

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The Duke's Promised Bride

A Damsels in Breeches Regency Novella

CHAPTER ONE

Suffolk, 1817

The explosion shook the rafters in the topmost attic of Graham Manor. Choking and coughing, Vanessa Graham picked herself up from the floor and surveyed the damage. Her electrical machine seemed to have survived the experiment, but her Leyden jar was completely ruined. Brushing the shards of glass from her breeches, she heard a commotion on the stairs and ran to open the door.

Everything's all right, she called to the servants who had come rushing to check on her. I'm not hurt. I connected the wrong wires and overloaded the circuit. A foolish mistake. No need to upset Grandfather. I'm fine.

Dashing down the back stairs, Vanessa hoped her grandfather hadn't heard the explosion. Sir Joshua Graham didn't approve of her experiments with electricity. He was often anxious and worried for her safety and hid his concern behind a stern autocratic manner.

When she reached the second landing, Vanessa hurried down the hall. Poor Wally must have heard the explosion and would be sick with worry. Her former governess, now companion, continually warned her of the dangers she risked working with electricity, and this particular blast had nearly raised the roof. Wally would have every right to scold her for being careless.

With a swift knock, Vanessa pushed open the door. Miss Wallis Langston was sitting upright in bed, grey eyes wide with fright, lace cap hopelessly askew on her soft brown curls.

Thank God, you're alive! Miss Langston cried, falling back against the pillows. Sneezing three times, she blew her nose on a crumpled handkerchief and stared at Vanessa through watery eyes.

Of course, I'm alive, Vanessa said. Although, I can't say as much for my poor Leyden jar. That's the fourth one I've broken this month. She caught a glimpse of herself in the bevelled mirror above the dressing table. Good gracious, I look a fright! I'll be back to explain after I change clothes.

As she shut the door behind her, Vanessa turned and almost collided with her grandfather's elderly housekeeper. Mrs. Comstock held her at arm's length, inspecting her from head to toe. A worried frown marred the plain ruddy face, and Vanessa hurried to reassure the motherly woman. I'm all right, Mrs. C. Really, I'm not hurt.

Lord a mercy, Miss! Just look at you, cried Mrs. Comstock. You're a goin' to get yourself killed one of these fine days, mark my words. Your face is as dirty as a chimney sweep's, your hair's all a tangle, and you're wearing those disgraceful breeches again! Sir Joshua is wishing to see you in his study this very minute. There's no time to put on a dress. You know how he hates to be kept waiting.

Vanessa forced herself to stand still while Mrs. Comstock wiped the smudges from her cheeks with the corner of her apron. The housekeeper lowered her voice to a whisper. There's a special visitor sitting with Sir Joshua.

Who is it? Vanessa asked, intrigued by the conspiratorial tone.

I'm not supposed to tell, the housekeeper said, readjusting her apron. But you'll be pleased as punch, Miss, mark my words. She stood back and shook her head. 'Tis a shame, you haven't time to wash and change out of those breeches, but it can't be helped.

Vanessa ran quickly down the hall with the housekeeper huffing and puffing by her side. Do you think Grandfather heard the noise?

Aye. How could he not? The whole house fairly shook. Mrs. Comstock shuddered at the memory. I've said it once, and I'll say it again. It ain't proper for a lady like you to tinker around in the attic. Ain't proper at all, and Miss Langston feels the same. Now hurry. Don't keep Sir Joshua waiting.

Vanessa nodded and raced to her grandfather's study.

Pausing before the double doors, she smoothed back errant wisps of hair from her forehead, forced air into her lungs, and tried to still the hammering of her heart. Considering the force of the blast above stairs, she desperately needed to present a calm facade to counteract what would surely be her grandfather's intense scrutiny of her tattered appearance. She fervently hoped he wouldn't rake her over the coals in front of his guest. Lifting her chin, Vanessa opened the door.

Sir Joshua Graham stood behind his massive oak desk, his face set in a scowl. Good God, he said, eyeing his granddaughter up and down. What in the world happened to you, girlie? That noise we heard was loud enough to wake the dead. Leaning his fists on his desk, he peered at her from beneath bushy white brows. It's a wonder you're not dead.

She stepped into the study and closed the door behind her. I'm perfectly fine. Not injured in the least, as you can see for yourself.

Hah! You look like a blackamore and your clothes are a disgrace. One of these days--but no matter. There's someone here to see you, my dear.

A man, tall and powerfully built, rose slowly from one of the high-backed chairs facing her grandfather's desk. He turned toward Vanessa and inclined his head in her direction. Her stomach dipped in an alarming manner when his golden brown eyes caught her gaze, then swept over her as he took in her appearance.

She felt herself stiffen when he raised his quizzing-glass and examined her from the top of her disheveled head down her smudged white blouse and nankeen breeches, and lower still to her old brown slippers. He caught her gaze again and amusement shone in the depths of his eyes.

Straightening her shoulders, Vanessa advanced into the room. When she stood facing the man, she stared in fascinated wonder. This gentleman was none other than her fiancé . . . Quentin D'Arby, Fifth Duke of Straithe.

What in the world was he doing at Graham Manor?

Their wedding was scheduled for March, still a good six weeks away. She wasn't well acquainted with the duke; the betrothal had been made while she'd still been in the nursery. In fact, she had only met the duke upon one occasion that she could recall.

Sir Joshua motioned impatiently to his granddaughter. Don't stand there gawking, girlie. Make your curtsy to his Grace and sit down.

Vanessa made a deep curtsy in all her disgracefully-breeched splendor. How lovely to see you, your Grace.

My lady. He lowered his quizzing-glass and bowed formally in return. After Vanessa sat down, he resumed his own seat, his big masculine body filling the large chair.

Straithe extended his long legs, crossing his booted ankles. "I'm afraid my curiosity is getting the better of me. Am I to understand that you are responsible for the commotion we heard above stairs?"

Yes, I'm responsible. Vanessa held his gaze and lifted her chin. You see, there was a slight mishap in my laboratory, your Grace.

Laboratory? he asked with a frown.

Up in the attic. Why did the duke appear so puzzled? I conduct experiments, she added helpfully.

I hope my attic is still in one piece? Sir Joshua sat back down behind his massive desk. You haven't blown the roof off, have you?

Vanessa smiled shook her head. No, Grandfather. Not yet.

What sort of experiments? Straithe stared at her as if she were one of those odd creatures on exhibit at the annual town's fair.

I work with electricity, she said, trying to keep the impatience from her voice. You requested I study electricity, don't you remember?

Did I? I don't recall . . . He paused. "Surely, you don't conduct dangerous experiments?"

Vanessa laughed. "Oh, no. I'm very careful. I've only knocked myself out once or twice--"

He stood quickly and looked down at her. "Knocked yourself out? You can't be serious."

She gazed up at him as he towered above her. I wasn't hurt, she assured him. It was due to carelessness, of course. And I always learn from my mistakes. I find the study fascinating.

The duke turned to Sir Joshua. And you allow this?

Her grandfather opened his eyes wide. Perhaps you don't recall when you last visited Graham Manor--how old were you, my dear?

Twelve, Vanessa said. It's been almost seven years since the duke honored us with his presence.

Yes, well . . . Don't be impertinent, Sir Joshua said. He turned to the duke again. On your visit, you were vastly pleased with Vanessa's upbringing, although you recommended a few additions to her curriculum. You suggested she study electricity, as well as delve deeper into classical literature, so the two of you could enjoy tolerably amusing dinner conversation after you were married.

Vanessa jumped up from her chair. You never told me this, Grandfather! She glared at the duke. Surely, you didn't make such a request as that.

The duke frowned. I don't remember. It's possible I said something of the sort. I used to be quite interested in the study of electricity.

"Used to? Vanessa couldn't believe what she was hearing. But not any longer, your Grace?"

"Not in recent years. Nonetheless, I