The Duke's Forbidden Love (Book 4, Age of Innocence) Read online

  THE DUKE’S FORBIDDEN LOVE

  2020 Copyright © by Debra Elizabeth

  Cover image by Romance Novel Covers

  Interior design & formatting by Terry Roy

  ISBN-13: 979-8-648578-16-6

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  ˜˜˜˜˜

  This book is dedicated to Sandy,

  who was always my biggest fan.

  ˜˜˜˜˜

  Age of Innocence, Book 4

  The Duke's Forbidden Love

  Debra Elizabeth

  Chapter 1

  Blythe Castle

  Ipswich, Suffolk County

  England

  April 1814

  JAMES EDWARD HARLOW, THE DUKE of Warwick, looked up from his paperwork when he heard a soft knock on his study door. He ran his hand through his unruly black hair. It was unusual for anyone to disturb him when he was working in his office, and the staff was aware of this rule. It must be important, but he was trying to finish this correspondence today and resented the interruption.

  “Come,” he said, more sharply than he intended.

  When the door opened, his beloved wife, Victoria, swept in. She was a vision to behold in a blue muslin day dress. Her dark tresses were pulled back in a casual chignon with a few wispy curls framing her lovely oval face, and her sky-blue eyes sparkled. She never failed to take his breath away with her beauty and grace. He smiled as she walked straight to him.

  “My darling, I apologize for interrupting you, but I wanted to let you know I’m off to visit the vicar and distribute some food baskets.”

  “Oh? This is last minute,” he said, standing and coming around to the front of his desk.

  “I know, but I’ve not visited with him in a fortnight. He will let me know if there are any other struggling families who could use a food basket.”

  James pulled Victoria into his arms and kissed her. When a sweet moan escaped her throat, he deepened the kiss. He could kiss her for days on end and never tire of her delicious mouth.

  Victoria stepped back after several minutes of dizzying bliss. “I’d better go now or I’ll be forced to take you upstairs, my lord.”

  James chuckled. “It would be my pleasure to obey your command, wife, but I’ll relent today and let you leave the comfort of my arms. Enjoy your visit with the vicar. Shall I go with you?”

  “That’s not necessary. I know how busy you are with estate business.”

  “My darling, I’m never too busy for you.”

  “You’re very sweet to say so, but Callum will be sufficient. Finish your work. I won’t be gone long and will see you at tea,” she said as she placed a sweet kiss on his lips.

  “Give my regards to the vicar. I’ll miss you while you’re gone.”

  Victoria laughed, a sweet melody to his ears. “You’ll be buried in your study all day and won’t even notice I’m gone.” She brushed her lips against his once again. “I’ll be home before you have a chance to miss me.” She gave him a saucy look before sweeping out the door of his study.

  Not for the first time since they married, James was amazed and thankful he’d won the hand of the beautiful Victoria Knight. She’d had multiple suitors the year she came out, but in the end, only had eyes for him, something he was grateful for every day. She was the perfect duchess—kind, loving, and compassionate. His tenants loved her, and he was well aware of her generosity in giving her time and sponsorship to whatever the nearby village of Ipswich needed. He had never believed he could love someone so completely, but Victoria’s sweet nature had totally captured him, body and soul.

  He returned to his seat and got busy on the pile of correspondence littering his desk. His estate was vast, and there was always plenty of work to be done. Hours later, he heard the first rumble of thunder. He rose from his desk and stretched before leaving his study. It was time to join his wife for tea. He nearly bumped into the housekeeper in the hallway as he exited his study. “Mrs. Spencer, has the duchess ordered tea yet?”

  Mrs. Spencer shook her head. “No, Your Grace. I don’t believe she has returned from her visit.”

  James nodded. “Thank you, Mrs. Spencer.” He strode down the hallway to find Gresham, the butler.

  “Your Grace, do you require something?” Gresham asked.

  “I’m going to ride out and meet Her Grace’s carriage. I don’t like how those dark clouds have rolled in so suddenly.”

  Gresham handed him his coat and hat. “Very good.”

  James pulled on his greatcoat and hat as he made his way to the stables. “Tom,” he yelled when he walked into the stable.

  “Yes, Your Grace?” the stable boy asked as he exited the tack room.

  “Saddle Mercury and be quick about it.”

  “Right away, Your Grace.” Tom nodded and ran to fetch the stallion’s saddle and bridle. Within minutes, James vaulted into the saddle and urged the horse out of the stables and down the long drive from the castle. As he turned onto the road, the skies opened up, and it didn’t take long for the torrential downpour to soak through his greatcoat. He pulled his hat low and kept a tight rein on Mercury to keep the horse from spooking. This was one of the worst storms he could remember. It was as if the gods were warring, the thunder was so loud.

  He kicked his heels into the horse’s side and rode Mercury hard as the thunder boomed and the lightning sizzled around him. He knew Victoria was nervous around thunder, and he wanted to accompany her home to soothe her fears. As he rounded a bend in the road, his breath froze in his chest. His matched pair of grays came thundering down the road toward him. They had obviously broken away from the carriage and were heading back to the stable as if the devil himself were chasing after them.

  “Dear God, no,” James yelled into the wind.

  It took only a few moments longer for him to find the wreck. He pulled hard on the reins, causing Mercury to rear up on his hind legs. When the horse’s front hooves hit the dirt, James jumped off and ran to the wreckage. This couldn’t be happening. His ducal carriage lay on its side in a ditch. As he climbed down into the ditch, he came across the driver, his body in a crooked heap against a tree. Callum had been in his employ for the past five years, and James valued his service and loyalty. He reached out and laid his hand against Callum’s throat, searching and praying for a heartbeat. After a moment, the dire truth slammed into him. The driver was dead. He’d obviously been thrown from the carriage and slammed full force into the tree. James could only hope he had died instantly and not lay suffering as the life leaked from his body.

  James turned and raced to the carriage, which was lying on its side not far from Callum’s broken body. He scrambled up the side and tore open the door. Against the far window, Victoria lay still. There was a large gash on her head, and blood was flowing down the side of her face. James lowered himself inside, all the while praying she was still alive. He lifted her into his arms and gently cradled her. />
  He stroked her face. “Victoria, my love, open your eyes. Can you hear me?”

  Victoria’s eyelids fluttered opened. “James, my love,” she whispered.

  “Yes, my darling. I’m here now. All will be well.”

  Victoria’s hand slid to her belly. “The baby?”

  “What?” James could hardly believe his ears. After trying for more than two years to conceive, his beloved wife was finally pregnant. “A child?”

  Victoria nodded.

  James brushed his lips tenderly against hers. “My darling, what joyful news.” He stared at his beloved wife, thinking about the blessed life they would share together. Before he could utter another word, a long, slow breath spilled from her, her eyes sliding shut. He waited for her to speak again, but there were no words, no movement, nothing.” A knife to the heart could not have been more brutal than the truth that slammed into him—his wife was gone. “Victoria, darling, please, please, please open your eyes. Come back to me. We shall have the most wonderful life together with our child. Victoria, please…”

  Victoria lay still in his arms. She would never open her eyes again, and he would never hear her infectious laugh, which always cheered him. He would never know his child, the child that they had prayed to have for so long. How could life be so unfair? Why was the god in heaven taking his beloved away from him?

  A scream full of anguish and heartache tore from his throat as thunder boomed and lightning lit up the sky around him. The deluge soaked him as his hope for a perfect life with Victoria washed away.

  In the span of a breath, his world and heart had shattered.

  Chapter 2

  Two years later

  London, 1816

  MISS AMELIA BECKWITH PASTED A smile on her face as she was ushered into the Stevensons’ ballroom alongside her parents. It was a crush, and she could scarcely breathe with all the people in the room. She looked out over the sea of colorful silks and wondered if she could hide in the corner for the duration of the night. Much to her dismay, there were no tall potted plants in any of the corners. She would be exposed all evening unless she spent the night in the ladies’ retiring room. Even then, she would not feel safe because her mother would find her and drag her back to the ballroom.

  Pretending to feel ill had not gotten her out of attending the ball. Her mother had dismissed her claims of illness and ordered her maid to help Amelia dress. Not even the new pale lavender silk ballgown cheered her up. The dress was exquisite, and Amelia would have been overjoyed to wear it anywhere… except to the Stevensons’ ball. She had a bad feeling about tonight but dared not voice her concerns to her mother. With a sigh, she had done what her mother commanded, and here she stood with her stomach churning. As she moved farther into the ballroom, she wished she had been more forceful in her refusal to attend this evening.

  Her father, John Beckwith, the Baron of Dudley, kissed her forehead almost immediately upon entering the ballroom. “Enjoy yourself, Amelia. I shall see you later,” he said before slipping off to the card room leaving her with her mother as chaperone for the evening.

  Her mother, Grace, whispered in her ear, “Amelia, make sure you smile when you dance with the Earl of Lincoln tonight. Your father is quite pleased that Lincoln’s showing you preference this Season.”

  Amelia nodded. It was the third time her mother had instructed her regarding her behavior with the handsome earl. “Yes, Mama. I understand.” She opened her mouth to share her misgivings about Lincoln, but her mother interrupted her, effectively silencing her.

  “Your father would never say this to you, so it’s left to me to inform you that this will be your final Season. You must secure a good match this year. Three Seasons is quite enough to find a suitable husband, even the love match you so covet. If you don’t choose someone before the end of the Season, your father will choose someone for you. We’re most pleased that Lincoln seems to be enamored with you. Do you understand?”

  Before Amelia could react to her mother’s ultimatum, the Earl of Lincoln stood before her. Butterflies roiled around her insides, not because she was excited to dance with him but because she was dreading Lincoln’s hands on her. She tried hard not to cringe and shrink back as the earl stood before her.

  Richard Blackwood, the Earl of Lincoln, was an imposing figure and had been singling her out at events for the past three and one half weeks. In the beginning, she was thrilled to have such a handsome and wealthy earl choose her from among all the eligible young women. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with light-brown hair and ice-blue eyes, and was considered the most eligible bachelor of the Season. He was a shrewd investor and had amassed a sizeable fortune.

  An innocent smile bestowed on Lincoln when they were first introduced at the beginning of April had been her undoing. He complimented her hair’s lovely shade of auburn and said her green eyes had entranced him from the moment he saw her. She was a diamond of the first water, and Lincoln told her he could never look at another woman when she was in attendance. She had believed it all—at least in the beginning—but it didn’t take long for her to see through his ruse.

  Lincoln was not who everyone thought he was. Once Lincoln had secured her father’s permission to court her two weeks ago, he’d showed a propensity for holding her waist too tightly while dancing and forcefully squeezing her elbow as he escorted her back to her mother. More times than she wanted to count, he’d left bruises on her delicate skin with his painful grip. She’d begun to notice that Lincoln was careful to be the perfect gentleman in public, but his sadistic and possessive side showed more and more when they were in a more private setting. To make matters worse, her mother had developed a habit of leaving the drawing room for a few moments to order a tea tray whenever Lincoln called on Amelia. He inevitably took the opportunity to pull her into his arms and kiss her.

  Perhaps she was overreacting, and Lincoln did not understand his own strength. She had nothing to compare this to. Lincoln was the first man to court her, and it was clear no other gentleman would pay his attentions to her now, with Lincoln hovering over her and glaring at other would-be suitors whenever they were together at an event. The way her mother was preening this evening, Amelia was sure that Lincoln had spoken with her father about proposing to her tonight. How could she disappoint her beloved father, who seemed so enamored with Lincoln? A mere baron’s daughter would soon be engaged to a wealthy and handsome earl. It seemed perfect to everyone except Amelia. How could she reject his proposal without incurring the wrath of her father and disappointment of her mother?

  “Miss Beckwith, you’re looking especially lovely this evening,” Lincoln said as he looked her over from head to toe.

  Amelia allowed him to kiss her gloved hand. “Thank you, my lord.”

  “I believe this is my dance,” he said, offering his arm. “Lady Dudley, if you’ll excuse us.”

  “Of course, my lord,” her mother said.

  Lincoln led her to the dance floor as the orchestra struck up the first notes of the waltz. He leaned close and whispered in her ear, “I wish to speak with you in private after the waltz.”

  Amelia didn’t want to have this conversation. There was no doubt the proposal was coming, but what choice did she have? She was convinced that no other gentleman would accept Lincoln’s cast-off, believing there was something wrong with her. No one would believe she simply did not want to marry him. It seemed so unfair that she should be penalized for rejecting a gentleman, but that was the way the ton would see it. She inclined her head as he swept her into the dance, once again holding her waist much too tightly. She was sure there would be fresh bruises tonight where his hand held her securely in his embrace. It would be hard to convince her maid, Dolly that she had collided with another table.

  The dance ended too soon for Amelia’s tastes, and Lincoln steered her to the open French doors and the balcony beyond. His grip on her elbow was beginning
to hurt, and she tried to discreetly pull her arm free, but that only made him grip her tighter.

  “My lord, you’re hurting me,” Amelia whispered.

  Once through the doors, Lincoln pulled her to the far end of the balcony before releasing her. He looked around to make sure no one was witnessing their private moment. “Watch your tongue, my lady. It is unbecoming, and I care not for it.”

  Amelia rubbed her arm, retreating until the railing was pressing at her back. There was no escape with Lincoln looming over her, blocking her escape. “My lord, I want to talk with you as well. I’m afraid I don’t—”

  Before she could finish her sentence, Lincoln grabbed her chin being careful not to grip too tightly and tilted it upwards. “Your opinion matters not at all to me. I’ve spoken with your father, and the marriage contract is being drawn up. I shall come around tomorrow to sign it.”

  Her eyes widened. “What? I haven’t agreed to marry you. I don’t wish this, and I refuse your proposal.”

  Lincoln pulled her into his arms, and his mouth crashed down on hers. She gasped at the savagery of the kiss as his tongue invaded her mouth in a continuous assault lasting several minutes. When he finally released her, she was too shocked to utter another word.

  He reached for her chin again. “You will not refuse me. Do I make myself clear? I expect you to put on your prettiest smile, my dear. You’re now engaged to the Earl of Lincoln. I’m warning you, Amelia. Do not disappoint me.”

  Tears threatened to spill down her cheeks, but Amelia blinked them back. The last thing she wanted was to cry in front of him. She knew he despised weakness, and a woman’s tears fell into that category. What nightmare was this? Lincoln had given her a glimpse of their life together, and it wasn’t pretty. He would no doubt visit the marriage bed nightly until he placed an heir in her belly. If his kiss was any indication of his love-making, she shuddered at the thought of the miserable existence that unfolded before her. Lincoln would control every aspect of her life, from the way she dressed to whom she saw and spoke with and where she went. That is, if he ever let her out of his sight.