Her Improbable Duke, Book 3 in The Darling Duchesses Series
Coming March 29, 2027 (Edwards and Williams)
Battered by her first marriage, Sophia, widowed Duchess of Tyneham, wants only to retire to the dower house and live in peace. But the current duke seems determined to marry her off, so she decides to turn the tables. With the help of friends, she invites three perfectly suitable young ladies to a house party and spreads the rumor that His Grace intends to pick a bride from among them. That should keep the distractingly handsome, kind, intelligent duke too busy to put Sophia in a position of having to risk her heart again.
The recently elevated Maxwell Darling, Duke of Tyneham, fully intends to propose at the house party: to Sophia. Her intelligence and care for her friends prove that she's the woman for him. But nothing he's done has touched her buried heart. When another gentleman at the party makes a pest of himself to Sophia, Max offers a different sort of proposal. He and Sophia will pretend an engagement while they determine what they truly want for their future. Sophia reluctantly agrees, then danger rears its head.
As plots expand and matchmaking attempts rule on all sides, can Max convince Sophia to turn their pretend engagement into a lasting love?
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Excerpt
Chapter One
Tyneham, Dorset, England
It was a sad commentary when a duchess had to escape a party in her own home, but it wouldn't be the first time.
Sophia, Dowager Duchess of Tyneham, positioned herself carefully behind a pillar at the edge of the flagstone terrace that ran the back of the manor house where she'd come as a bride more than two years ago now. Wife for six months, widow for eighteen. Another sad commentary.
But, at the moment, she found her need to disappear more annoying than anything else.
Everything had been going to plan. The guests had arrived at Tyneham Manor today, trickling in from mid-morning to nearer the dinner hour. The three young ladies were of greatest importance. All had brought some form of family with them. Then there was a distant cousin of the duke and a young gentleman well known to most to even out the numbers at table. Conversation had been congenial, interest substantial. Rumor had it the Duke of Tyneham intended to pick a bride before the fortnight house party was over.
She should know. She'd help start the rumor herself.
And then, at dinner, it had begun. David Darling, the duke's cousin, had met her gaze across the table and smiled the most insinuating smile. For a moment, he'd looked exactly like her late husband. Her stomach had turned, and gooseflesh had pimpled her arms between her capped sleeves and white long gloves. She'd given him as close to the cut direct as she could, making sure to speak to the gentleman seated on either side of her and refusing to so much as glance in his direction for the remainder of the meal.
But the fellow had persisted!
Instead of staying with the gentlemen at the table, he'd joined the ladies in the hall at the back of the manor and settled himself at Sophia's side as she'd stood near the windows overlooking the garden.
"I cannot thank you enough, Duchess, for your kind invitation," he'd said with what he likely considered a winning smile. Unlike most of the Darling males she had met, with their russet hair and clear blue eyes, he had hair black as jet and dark eyes to match.
"I did not extend the invitation, Mr. Darling," Sophia reminded him, taking out her fan and applying it to keep him from standing any closer.
"Please, call me DD," he purred. "All my friends do."
"Nevertheless, you must thank Sir Winfred, Mr. Darling," Sophia said pointedly. "I believe he's still at table, with the other gentlemen."
He ignored the hint. "But you are the duchess. This is your home. I merely wanted you to know how much I appreciate being here, with you." He attempted to gaze deep into her eyes.
Sophia purposely looked away. "I'll shortly be a dowager duchess, like my two predecessors."
"Only if my cousin marries," he pointed out. "And even then, the title of duchess shall be yours forever." He'd leaned closer, and the scent of his bay rum cologne had washed over her bringing back memories he could not know still made her wake in a cold sweat. "I'm sure your next husband will appreciate that. Not every man can marry a duchess."
"Mr. Darling." Claudia's voice had rang against the stone pillars that marched along either side of the space overlooking the rear gardens. "If you're going to join us, make yourself useful and speak to all the ladies."
Sophia could only bless the reigning dowager for her kindness. As soon as Mr. Darling had turned away with a ready quip, she'd slipped from the room.
Now she darted a gaze around the pillar that hid her from both the terrace and the guests who were attending the welcome reception, making sure the delicate flounces on the hem of her blue silk evening gown did not snag against the limestone. No one seemed to have noticed she was missing. She relaxed back and breathed a sigh of relief.
Somewhere in the garden, a toad croaked, deep and throaty. The evening breeze brushed a tendril of her light-brown hair across her eyes, bringing the whisper of flowers and a hint of brine from the Channel shore not far away. The voices from inside came dimly. She was safe when not so many months ago she'd doubted she could ever feel secure again.
The sound of a footfall made her spine stiffen a moment before a gentleman backed around the pillar, as if making sure no one noticed him either. He bumped Sophia's shoulder then whirled, russet brows up and clear blue eyes startled behind his silver-rimmed spectacles.
"And what is the Duke of Tyneham doing hiding from his guests?" Sophia scolded.
Maxwell, the latest Duke of Tyneham, offered her a wry smile. "The same thing the current Duchess of Tyneham appears to be doing: escaping."
Sophia shook her head. "I am not required for this party. You are. Your guests came for the express purpose of celebrating your elevation to the title."
He leaned forward to glance around the pillar, then dropped back beside her. "We both know why they're really here."
She certainly did, and it was all his own fault. Since becoming duke near Christmas last year at the tender age of eight and twenty, Max had done everything in his considerable power to fulfill the duties and responsibilities of duke. Those responsibilities included the welfare of the three living duchesses of his predecessors, dukes who had died in relatively quick succession over the last five years. It was his role to see that Sophia and the other duchesses received their dower settlements and were appropriately housed and fed.
But Max seemed to have a romantic streak, for he was determined to see all three of them happily married. Claudia had wed three months ago to the architect Max had hired to renovate the manor. Georgie had said her vows two months ago to the vicar Max had appointed to the living in the village.
And that left Sophia, who had no interest in remarrying. Ever. Still, she had agreed with Claudia and Georgie that the duke deserved a dose of his own medicine. Hence the house party.
"The ladies we invited are delightful," Sophia told him. "I'm not sure why you feel the need to distance yourself from them without learning more."
Something crossed his face, and he looked away. "And why are you hiding?"
Sophia raised her chin. "A duchess does not hide, sir. She beats a strategic retreat."
He chuckled, the sound warming her. "You sound like Claudia."
"Comparing me to the woman I admire above all others is certain to turn my head," Sophia acknowledged. "But do not think it will allow you to change the subject. Why are you hiding, Max?"
He sighed, resting the shoulders of his black evening coat against the weathered stone behind them. He still refused to hire himself a valet, but at least he'd dressed for the evening this time.
"Miss Featherstone appears to prefer my cousin's company," he said, tugging down on his Madeira-colored waistcoat. "Lady Miranda speaks of nothing but her passion for ancient creatures, and Lady Catherine persists in finding reasons to bump into me."
Well, Sophia would have to see about that! The impertinence! "I will have a word with Miss Featherstone. I've already taken Mr. Darling's measure. She's clever. She'll see it too."
Max regarded her. "You're not won over by DD, despite Sir Winfred's glowing praise of the fellow?"
Though distant cousins, neither Sir Winfred nor DD had made Max's acquaintance until he had been elevated, though the older Sir Winfred had been a frequent guest at the manor since before Sophia had arrived. A bequest in the will of one of the previous dukes even stated that a room must always be ready for the baronet.
"DD is an encroaching upstart," Sophia said, "whose charm is a thin veneer over a character I suspect is severely lacking."
Max frowned. "Those are harsh words. Has he insulted you?"
Max always spoke calmly, with a quiet strength she found admirable. But something else now simmered in his voice, and a chill went up her arms again.
He isn't Robert. You don't need to be afraid.
She rallied under her thoughts. "No insult, just a level of attention I have no desire to encourage. I told you, Max. I will not marry again. When this house party is over, and you've chosen a bride, it will be my pleasure to relocate permanently to the dower house." She nodded to the smaller house, whose chimney was just visible through a gap in the trees that shielded Tyneham Manor from it and the tenant farms beyond.
"There are other gentlemen at the party," Max offered. "You might find one of them more to your liking."
"I won't," Sophia predicted blithely. "It will take an amazing fellow to push me off my perch of widowhood. I haven't met him yet, and I doubt I ever will, so you can stop meddling."
Max nearly groaned aloud. He should have known it wouldn't be so easy to win Sophia's heart. From the moment he'd entered Tyneham Manor, she'd been cordial but cool. She was willing to befriend him, nothing more. That was very clear, as was the reason behind it.
He wasn't a fighting fellow, though he was tall and had a slender physique. He'd only taken a few lessons on a whim from Gentleman Jackson while residing in London and could frequent the legend's boxing emporium.
But if Robert Darling, the previous Duke of Tyneham, had been alive, Max would cheerfully have pummeled him into the dust for what he'd done to Sophia, and Max was aware he only knew part of the story.
That part was enough to make any gentleman shudder. An unstable fellow, given to outbursts and tantrums, the last Duke of Tyneham had cheated at cards, drunk himself into a stupor more times than anyone could count, and finally perished in a duel over a married woman's honor. No one had berated the man who'd shot him. Neither had Max met anyone who had mourned the duke's passing. And Sophia--vibrant, caring, intelligent Sophia--had been left with no desire to enter matrimony again.
That was likely the fellow's greatest crime.
"I suppose one of us will crack over the next fortnight," Max mused. Someone inside the house laughed, and Sophia glanced around him as if to make sure they both remained out of sight. The scent of lavender wafted past him as it often did in her presence. He never knew if it was from some concoction she'd brewed in her stillroom or from the stillroom itself.
"Not me," she promised, leaning back again.
"Nor I," he replied. "But if you're so certain, I propose a scheme to save us both considerable trouble."
She frowned. "Scheme, sir?"
Here came the tricky part. She might laugh. She might scold him again. But the possibility of her agreeing was worth any risk.
"If we are already engaged, there would be no need for the women to posture or the men to hound you." Though he would be having words with his so-called cousin regardless. How dare the fellow push Sophia into hiding!
"Everyone knows I'm not engaged," Sophia informed him archly. "And those women came in hopes they'd be engaged to you before the party ends."
"Which is why," Max said, "I suggest that we announce we are engaged to each other."
She stared at him, green eyes wide, and he willed himself not to cringe. "What!"
He swiveled to face her more fully. "Think about it, Sophia. If you pretend to be engaged to me, DD would cease all his attentions. If for some reason he persisted, I'd have a perfectly valid reason to throw him out on his ear."
Her mouth twitched as if she were imagining the look on his handsome cousin's face as Max did the deed. "I would like to see that. But while many will look the other way for a widow's behavior, you stand to lose a great deal more by that kind of charade. At the moment, Society is waiting to see what sort of duke you'll be. You would not want to be considered a jilt. And you cannot disappoint these women's hopes with less thought than you would put into choosing a cravat."
He'd put considerably more thought into his plan than that, not to mention spending a few nights wrestling with his conscience.
"I didn't invite those ladies here," Max reminded Sophia gently. "You, Claudia, and Georgie did. I don't owe them my future."
She rubbed her hand along her arm, and he realized that the night was coming in and bringing with it a welcome cool. He slipped off his evening coat and draped it about her shoulders. Her smile softened.
"You see, Max? You have a good heart. You will make some woman a wonderful husband."
He had every intention. Before he'd learned he was next in line for a dukedom-something so unthinkable his late father hadn't mentioned the fact that they were distantly related to the Darling family that held the Tyneham duchy-Max had wondered whether his profession of historian would ever allow him the luxury of supporting a wife. But he'd put money aside, hoping, praying. To have a soulmate, a companion so dear. What a treasure that would be!
He'd never expected to find her already a duchess and living in his own home! And he'd always somehow thought she'd recognize his goodness even as he recognized hers. Some might take exception to his russet hair or the fact that his eyes must be hidden behind spectacles if he was to see clearly, but he'd been told he was a passable specimen of a fellow. And he took pride in his character.
Immediately guilt tugged. A fellow of sterling character would hardly be proposing a lie. But it wasn't a lie, at least on his part. Nothing would make him happier than to be betrothed to Sophia, knowing their lives would soon be one. If he could only convince her of the possibility, perhaps she'd see that golden future too. Perhaps he could yet win her heart.
"I'd like the opportunity to choose my wife," Max told her. "I know what I want, Sophia. And those ladies, no matter how lovely, talented, intelligent, and good-hearted, will never measure up."
Her brows arched. "Your standards are that high, are they?"
"Very likely as high as yours."
She laughed. "Oh, Max, we do make a pair."
He smiled. "We do indeed."
She sobered. "There is a difference, you know. My dower settlement is sufficient to see to all my needs. I needn't marry again. You, on the other hand, are a duke who requires an heir. You must marry."
"Someday," he insisted. "When the right woman agrees to my proposal."
She shook her head, and he could feel her slipping away. If only she could see that she was the right woman!
He took her hand in his. "Think of it this way, Sophia. At the moment, our guests are nervous and concerned over every word, every action, knowing themselves likely to be judged. If we were to pretend an engagement, they might feel more free to be themselves. Perhaps I'll see a side of those ladies I haven't seen so far."
She pulled from his grip, not even leaving him that comfort. "You've been in their company less than six hours, sir. Very likely, there are all manner of sides you've haven't seen yet."
"And am not likely to see so long as they feel they are in competition. By taking away the competition, you do them a favor."
She regarded him out of the corners of her eyes, and he dared to hope.
"I see your point," she allowed, "but I cannot like the lie. What happens should you decide you want one of these ladies after all? Do you think you can just do away with our engagement with a wave of your hand?"
Max shrugged. "You will graciously allow me out of our agreement, and I will explain that my love's attributes quite swept me away. As you and your coconspirators have pointed out, I am a duke. I will likely be forgiven."
She laughed again. "You might at that. Dukes can get away with many things unthinkable for mere mortals." She tapped her chin with one gloved finger, and he waited, scarcely able to breathe.
Then her hand fell. "No, Max, I don't think it will serve. Claudia, Georgie, and I chose these women with great care. I'm certain you'll find one you can appreciate. I will do nothing to hinder that possibility."
Max inclined his head, but he refused to give up. He'd already determined which woman he wished to wed, and nothing she or the others could do would change that.
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Extras
Remember the other books in The Darling Duchesses series:
