Page 1 of Her Duke to Beguile: Lady Be Wicked
Prologue
As an eligible gentleman of marriageable age George St. Giles, the Duke of Cranbrook was by far one of the most sought after unattached men currently socializing amongst society. He was wealthy and had a title many ladies craved to have attached to their name. That wasn’t arrogance on his part. No, it was an unfortunate, or fortunate depending on one’s viewpoint, fact of his life.
He enjoyed having a sizeable fortune at his disposal, and his rank afforded him as many luxuries as those funds did. To suggest he wasn’t grateful for the good fortune birth allowed him would be ridiculous. George was not a foolish man, and he fully intended to keep all of his faculties. Otherwise, that might prove disastrous.
With all the trappings of wealth at his disposal came as many drawbacks. Women often pressed him for something he could not give them. Most of them hoped for marriage, but some would happily allow him to take them to his bed without the benefit of vows. Their actions were disturbing at best, but definitely disruptive.
He was ready to give up on polite society and hide at his country estate. Cranbrook Castle would be lovely this time of year. Soon, the gardens would bloom, and the maze his father had built would be enshrouded with greenery and luscious vegetation. Few could navigate that maze, and he longed to become lost within it. At least there he’d be safe from probing glances and even more prying hands. He still couldn’t quite believe how many women thought it would be all right to grope him.
He sighed.
“What has ye so glum,” a man said from behind him. George glanced toward the man and grinned. At least this one person he welcomed readily. The Duke of Allister had recently come into his title, and he had to have observed some of the wantonness of the ladies of the ton of late.
“How long have you been in town?” he asked Allister.
“Long enough tae realize I’d rather be back home in Scotland,” he said, with a rich brogue that signified his highland ancestry. “Ah doona know how ye suffer through all of this every day.”
“It’s a cross I must bear,” he told Allister in a grave tone. “You can always return to your beloved highlands. I’m sure the ladies there are not so forthright.”
“In that ye be wrong, Yer Grace,” he replied, then chuckled. “They’re brazen enough, but in different ways, ye ken.”
He nodded. “A title is desirable and you're unmarried as yet.”
“Aye,” Allister replied. “But I won’t marry a lass that decides tae warm my bed without invitation. Ye would be forced to be more…honorable.”
Somehow, he doubted it was that simple. “If an innocent stripped naked and slid into your bedchamber, her family wouldn’t be after your head if you failed to make her your wife?” George lifted a brow.
“They might try tae insist,” Allister agreed. “But I won’t bloody do anything. I doona wish tae. They all know this and none have been that bold as yet.”
“I’ve narrowly escaped a few well-set marriage traps in the past sennight alone.” Every attempt had been a nuisance, and he had to find some way to escape the insanity of it all. “I’m going to retire to Cranbrook Castle soon, but I have to attend to a few important items before I can comfortably do so.” He turned toward the duke. An idea suddenly formed in his head. Something that would benefit both of them… “We should form an alliance.”
“I thought we were already friendly enough,” Allister reminded him. “Why would we need tae make anything so formal?”
How did he explain what he wanted to do? “There are several individuals like ourselves that encounter the same issue.” George curated his words carefully. “There are ladies that will do anything to secure the match they desire most. Not all ladies are so…mercenary with their intentions.”
“True,” Allister said. “And this alliance would do what?”
“It wouldn’t be a club. We don’t need anything that would that we need to keep formed for every day use. We would form something more unceremonious, an alliance for all those aware of its existence. Simply put… We all would agree to aid another member of our secret alliance should we be called upon to assist them, and if we ever become aware of a ploy to trap one of us into an unwanted union, it would be our duty to warn the intended target.”
Allister was quiet for several moments. “No man wishes for such a trap. Marriage should be mutually agreed upon.” He tilted his head to the side as if considering all aspects of George’s proposal. “Aye. I think this will be excellent. We can protect each other from the wee lasses with wanton purposes.” Allister chuckled. “At least the ones that wish tae lead us tae vows we’re not read tae say in front of a parson.”
“I’m glad you see the wisdom of this endeavor,” George said, and then grinned. “We can write up a pact and all sign it. There are a few other individuals I know that would gladly sign as well.”
Allister nodded. “I do as well. We can meet at yer estate and discuss it. There will be fewer ears around tae overhear what we wish tae remain undisclosed there.”
“So we’re agreed.” George felt a sense of relief rush through him now that he had a strategy in place to handle all the unwanted attention. It wouldn’t solve everything, but it would help with a lot of the schemes in place. “In a fortnight we will meet with the other individual that are to join our alliance at Cranbrook Castle. I’ll have a document prepared for us to sign and add any amendments to if they’re required. We can use the excuse that we’re having a hunting party for our meeting.”
“Aye,” Allister replied with a quick nod. “I’ll be there. Now if ye will pardon my abrupt departure. There’s a lass over there that is making me a wee bit nervous. Until we meet again, Yer Grace.”
George chuckled as the duke left him alone. He would depart soon as well. The atmosphere had become quite unbearable in the last several minutes. Especially since he no longer had the buffer of the Duke of Allister’s company to keep most of the ladies from approaching him. This alliance would work. It had to…
One
Clouds formed overhead, threatening to unleash a torrential rain on those unlucky enough to be caught in the storm. Miss Eleanor Jones would be one of those unfortunate individuals to be drowned in the pelting drops as it fell from the sky. She glanced at the darkness forming above once again and quickened her pace. Cranbrook Castle loomed ahead, and all she had to do was make it to the servants’ entrance and she’d be safe from a good soaking. She might not make it. She probably wouldn’t make it. Drat.
Eleanor needed that position. How could she present her best self if she was nothing more than a drowned rat dripping all over the castle’s elegant interior? That would not leave a good impression with the servants or the residents of the castle. She should run. Perhaps a sweaty brow and gasping for breath would be a better appearance to present them than a soaping wet mess.
She set a faster pace, hoping to outrun the rain. Her directions had been exact. She was to present herself first to the housekeeper, Mrs. Hopson, then she would be introduced to Lady Craven, and if the countess approved, she could begin as the young Earl of Craven’s nanny. Eleanor wouldn’t have any prospects if she wasn’t granted the position. She had the education to teach the young earl, but she had no experience as a governess.
