A Bluestocking for the Duke: A Steamy Historical Regency Romance Novel (The Hale Sisters Book 1)

“Oh, Margaret!” Emma wrapped her arms around her sister’s neck and leaned into her. “How I’ve missed you!” Her older sister hugged her back, squeezing her tightly.

     “My dearest Emma.” Margaret’s eyes sparkled. “Engaged to a duke!”

     “Excuse me.” The Viscount of Barton put a hand on his wife’s back. “You mustn’t say it as if she has outperformed you.”

     Margaret looked back at him and laughed. “No, of course not. She would need to be married to a prince for me to imply such a thing.”

     The viscount crossed his arms, but the twinkle in his eyes showed he was amused. Something drew his gaze up. “Speak of the man himself,” he said. Emma’s heart jumped out of her chest, and she spun around and looked up to the top of the staircase. The Duke smiled cordially. “The viscount and viscountess, yes?” He smiled. “Truly a pleasure.”

     Emma looked away as soon as he met her gaze. Instead, she looked down at her feet. Just last night, she had shared something beyond words with the Duke. He had done something to her that still had her as exhausted and spent as the moment it happened.

     She had expected if he was to kiss her again, she would have woken up regretting the stain on her virtue. What they shared was more intense than a kiss, yet she hadn’t regretted it. It was impossible to explain, but the feeling he brought her had given her some clarity. There was something in him, underneath all the pretenses, that she could not live without. She loved him.

     “Well? Shall we go to the table?” Margaret asked, urging the men ahead of her. This gave her just enough privacy to wiggle her brows at Emma in approval. Emma blushed, smiling.

     Margaret had set the standard for all the Hale daughters when she married for love. She had urged all her sisters to do the same. Emma knew that Margaret had come to London specifically to see the man she would marry. This breakfast felt like a big deal. After all, as important as it was to convince Harriet that the Duke loved her, it was just as vital to convince Margaret.

     Emma followed the group into the dining room, where Harriet and Lucy sat bickering about something. The baron and baroness both sat, smiling at the rest of the family. Once again, the Duke helped Emma into her chair before sitting beside her. “You haven’t said a word to me this morning,” he said.

     She took a deep breath. “I apologize, I—”

     “So, how is the wedding planning coming along, Your Grace?” the viscount asked, taking a scone from the center of the table.

     Colin turned, picking up his mug of tea. He shrugged lightly. “Planning is such a tedious process when you are eager to begin a life with the woman you love.” He blew on the cup of earl grey to cool it. “I am sure you would agree.”

     “Of course.” The viscount nodded. “But a beautiful ceremony can set the tone.”

     “And it is a chance to wear a beautiful dress,” Margaret beamed. “For my sister, naturally.”

     “Naturally? Naturally, she would look more becoming in anything, but I may surprise you yet,” Colin said. “Anyone know a fashionable modiste?” Everyone at the table shared a laugh.

     “Your dress was so lovely, Margaret,” Harriet said.

     Colin turned to Emma once everyone was captivated by a conversation. “No need to apologize. I should be the one. Yet again.” His mouth drew into a thin line.

     “You…regret it?”

     “Of course,” he said. “Such things should wait.”

     Emma made a soft noise that didn’t amount to any meaning. She felt like a fool to have enjoyed Colin’s touch so much when he himself wished it had never happened. It felt hopeless to love a man who saw her as a mistake. “Why?”

     He narrowed his eyebrows. He opened his mouth to respond, but they were interrupted yet again. “The baron tells me you’re in London on business?” the viscount asked.

     “There is much to be squared away. I will be heading out after breakfast to begin the negotiations. You are welcome to join me if you like. It’s been a while since I’ve been in that part of London. I could always use a companion.”

     The viscount smiled. “I would love to. It will give the ladies an opportunity to discuss us, hm?”

     Colin laughed cordially. “Hopefully, they do not share all of our secrets.”

     “I can scarcely promise a thing, Your Grace,” Margaret smiled.

     After breakfast, Margaret and Emma sat together in the parlor. The men of the house left on business while Lucy and Harriet went shopping with their mother. Having the home all to themselves felt like a small relief. Emma had wanted so badly to confide in someone the events of the past two weeks.

“It’s been so long since I have seen you!” Margaret’s eyes were creased lovingly.

“Any news?” Emma asked.

“Actually, perhaps, but I’d like to wait until tonight to share!” she said. “But I’m more interested in you. The Duke is really something, is he not?”

     Emma blushed. “Handsome. Accomplished. Gentle.” She looked at her hands folded in her lap. “He makes me laugh.”

     “I avoided staring out of respect for you.”

     “Not for the Duke’s sake?”

     “Goodness no,” Margaret smirked. “I have no allegiance to him. Besides, I am sure he is used to all the stares when he looks like one of Michelangelo’s finest works.”

     “Margaret!” Emma hissed, holding back a smile.

     “What? Men are allowed to speak crassly about us at their gentleman’s clubs. Parlors are for the ladies.”

     “No, rather, what if he heard you?” Emma snorted with laughter. “His ego would never lessen. I would find that exhausting.”

     Margaret widened her eyes jokingly. She pretended to lock her mouth and toss the key.

It was quiet for a moment as both sisters sipped at their tea. Emma’s thoughts raced. She felt overwhelmed to share any part of her experience with the Duke; however, if she didn’t tell anyone, she was certain she would burst. “I need to tell you something,” Emma said, wringing her hands out.

     “Yes?”

     “I agreed to marry the Duke for Harriet’s sake.”

     Margaret set her teacup down, tipping her head to the side in bewilderment.

     “Father, of course, wished for me to marry before Harriet. So, when mother suggested that I be matched with the Duke of Radford, I agreed.”

     “You are so fortunate it grew into affection as quickly as Mama said,” Margaret pointed out.

     “Well…”

     “Oh no,” Margaret whispered, sighing. “Well, what?”

     Emma took a deep breath. “The Duke and I quarreled almost immediately, and then…” She paused.

     “Yes?”

     “He kissed me,” Emma whispered.

     “Oh, my goodness,” Margaret said. “He kissed you? On the lips?”

     “What does that even…” Emma paused. “What does that mean?”

     Margaret stilled, eyes moving back and forth. “He is either in love or a rake.”

     “He is neither of those things,” Emma said assuredly. “We called a truce, and I promised I would marry him if he agreed to help me convince our family that we were a love match.”

     “Emma!” Margaret rubbed her head as if she had a migraine. “That is ridiculous. You should not marry a man you do not—”

     “No,” Emma interrupted her. “That is the problem. I do love him. I do. He…kissed me…again yesterday evening, and I could no longer deny it. But as of this morning, he regrets it.” It was difficult enough to confess she’d kissed a man before her wedding. There was no way that she would admit exactly how much of her body he had kissed.

     Margaret tilted her head again and smiled warmly. She wrapped her arm around her younger sister. “You fret over nothing. If you saw how His Grace looked at you this morning, you too would be sure that he feels just as strongly as you.”

     “Oh, Margaret.” Emma shook her head.

     “You need to be honest with him. If you love him, you must be truthful about the nature of your heart.”

     Emma breathlessly tried to respond, but the ache in her chest was all she could focus on. “I want nothing more than to live the rest of our lives in earnest.” She shook her head. “I am just so weary of the constant lies and the pretenses that His Grace and I have resorted to. It feels so unscrupulous, a mockery of what could be.”

     There was a pause. Emma leaned her head on Margaret’s shoulder. Her older sister wrapped a comforting arm around her and pulled her close. “What matters is how you move forward. That is all that matters. As you said, it is best to start a marriage with honesty.”

     Emma nodded. Setting her hopes up only to have Colin dash them felt cruel, but it was the only option. If she continued her days pretending, she would never have a chance at anything real.

     Colin breathed deeply, feeling the relief flood through him. For the first time in many days, the sun was out. The sky was a brilliant blue, and the streets were alive with traffic and excitement. And while all of that made Colin feel released from the winter doldrums, it wasn’t the reason he was feeling so free.

     The meeting with the other investors had gone extraordinarily. It appeared that a simple investment could reward him smartly. The return was promising, and several other investors had made their investments back tenfold already. It seemed that if he kept this up, he wouldn’t need to marry for money after all.

     But something else was on Colin’s mind. After the evening prior, Colin’s stomach had been in knots. What he did was untoward. He should have never allowed himself to kiss Emma a second time, let alone bring her to climax. She was a proper woman, and the wedding was only weeks away. Colin had planned to control his desires, but while he was looking for a book, it had occurred to him that she was watching him eagerly. He might have let it go, but as soon as they began to bicker, he saw that spark of passion in her that made him disregard his reservations.

     He didn’t want her to satisfy his own desires. He wanted her for the way she spoke, the way she thought of the world, the way she laughed, the way she cared. Everything about her made him weak. It was never a tryst. It seemed clear, in hindsight, that Colin would never be able to escape the way he felt about her so long as she was around.

     With the investment, he no longer needed her dowry, but he still needed her.

     The viscount breathed deeply. “Does the sun not feel incredible?” He took a seat on a stone bench by the fountain in front of the Wilkes Manor. “I think I might sit out here for just a few minutes. Care to join?”

     “Thank you,” Colin bowed. “But I must speak with my betrothed.” Emma no longer needed to marry him. Her sister was courting, and Colin no longer needed her dowry. But Colin was ready to tell her, with certainty, that he loved her in a way that he could not begin to explain. Either way, he hoped she would marry him. For the first time in his life, Colin Weston could see himself spending the rest of his life with someone.

     Colin entered the estate. When he arrived, he found a letter lying on the table for him from his brother. Colin quickly opened it and frowned. It was nothing of importance, merely a swift update about the nature of the estate in Colin’s absence.

     Colin tucked it gingerly in his pocket. A maid passed by. “Excuse me,” he smiled. She stopped and curtsied. “Might you, by chance, direct me towards Miss Emma Hale?”

     The maid’s voice was small. “She’s in the parlor with her sister, Your Grace.”

     Colin extended his gratitude before making his way down the hall. The parlor door was open a crack and through it. Colin could hear Emma’s voice. She sounded upset. “I am just so weary of the constant lies and the pretenses that His Grace and I have resorted to. It feels so unscrupulous…”

     Colin’s chest dropped, hollow like a drum. He stepped back from the door, too afraid to hear anymore. She didn’t love him. She felt disgusted by the constant lying and pretending. He spun back on his heels, hurrying down the hall and out the front door of the estate. Back outside, the once beautiful day looked desperately sickening, like it had only existed to dash Colin’s greatest hopes.

     The viscount was still outside. “Are you well?” he asked.

     Colin’s hand shook as he straightened his cravat. He offered a pleasant but fake smile. “Of course. My betrothed is still with the viscountess, and I would hate to interrupt. I figured some fresh air and reflection was in order.” Colin stepped further down the drive until he was just a few steps away from the sidewalk. “I will return in time for supper.”

     Yet another unscrupulous lie. If Emma hated liars as much as she hated lying, then it was obvious that she would never love him.