My Fake Duke, page 1
My Fake Duke
Bianca Blythe
© Copyright 2022 by Bianca Blythe
Text by Bianca Blythe
Cover by Wicked Smart Designs
Dragonblade Publishing, Inc. is an imprint of Kathryn Le Veque Novels, Inc.
P.O. Box 23
Moreno Valley, CA 92556
ceo@dragonbladepublishing.com
Produced in the United States of America
First Edition December 2022
Kindle Edition
Reproduction of any kind except where it pertains to short quotes in relation to advertising or promotion is strictly prohibited.
All Rights Reserved.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
License Notes:
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Thank you for your support of a small press. At Dragonblade Publishing, we strive to bring you the highest quality Historical Romance from some of the best authors in the business. Without your support, there is no ‘us’, so we sincerely hope you adore these stories and find some new favorite authors along the way.
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Additional Dragonblade books by Author Bianca Blythe
Determined Debutantes Series
The Secret Life of a Debutante (Book 1)
You’ve Got an Earl (Book 2)
The Duke Trap (Book 3)
Also from Bianca Blythe
My Fake Duke (Novella)
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Publisher’s Note
Additional Dragonblade books by Author Bianca Blythe
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Epilogue
About the Author
Chapter One
Summer had barely begun, yet the hot, thick air seemed to have been here forever. It was impossible to imagine a time when snow had fluttered down and wind had blustered. Even rain, that ubiquitous weather event, seemed an impossibility. Every window was open, but the air hanging about Grosvenor Square could hardly be described as cool.
Footsteps pounded in the corridor, then the door swung open, and Juno’s maid appeared.
“You must come to the library!” Millie clapped her hands, and a wide smile adorned her round face.
“Very well.” Juno tilted her head. Normally, Millie did not bounce on the balls of her toes. “Isn’t Papa simply meeting some lord?”
“You’ll see,” Millie said, continuing to smile.
Juno closed her book and moved from the drawing room to the library. She strode over the now familiar floorboards and oriental carpets, brought from places she’d never visited and most likely never would.
Juno had spent the year begging Papa to bring her to London, but he’d chosen to bring her at the very hottest time. She still hadn’t seen anything of note. The old duchess whose house they were staying at hadn’t left the place for over a decade, and Papa had wanted to visit her before she passed away.
Juno entered the library. Gold letters glittered on emerald-and-ruby books under the bright glare of the midday sun streaming from the large windows. Papa and Lord Gargrave were admiring the view of the park, but they turned toward her as she approached.
“Ah! You must be Lady Juno.” Lord Gargrave surveyed her, rolling his gaze over her body.
Papa frowned. “Answer the man.”
“Indeed.” Juno’s voice squeaked uncharacteristically as she curtsied. “I am Lady Juno.”
“Of tolerable beauty and sufficiently wide hips,” Lord Gargrave said thoughtfully.
“She takes after her father’s side of the family in that,” Papa declared. “My sisters all had large families.”
“Well, we wouldn’t want another…mishap.”
Juno’s cheeks flamed. Her mother’s death hadn’t been a mishap. It had been a tragedy.
Lord Gargrave tapped his fingers together, and a slow smile spread toward his long gray-speckled sideburns. She shivered underneath his gaze. Though it was good Papa had a friend in London, she wished he’d chosen one without a habit of peering at her with such intensity. The man was almost her father’s age, after all.
“What brings you to London, Lord Gargrave?” Juno asked.
“Forward little thing, hmm…?” the viscount said.
Juno’s cheeks heated. “I’d assumed I’d long reached the age where I was not expected to stay silent until spoken to.”
The man’s pale eyebrows darted up. “Perhaps, perhaps.” He moved his head to face Papa. “Just how old is your daughter?”
“She’s not yet twenty,” Papa said hastily. “Youth itself.”
“Ah.” Lord Gargrave narrowed his eyes. “She still has some things to learn.”
Juno shifted her legs over the floorboards. They creaked beneath her. Papa had not mentioned she would be twenty in two weeks. She didn’t feel particularly young. Did he imagine Lord Gargrave would offer for her before her twentieth birthday?
“There is much to see in London,” Juno said.
“And I suppose you will want to show them to me?” The man’s chest puffed out. “We will have to work on your propriety.”
Juno widened her eyes. “I-I didn’t mean that I personally would show them to you. I haven’t even seen much. I only meant that there is much to see.”
The man’s left eyebrow raised slightly, and his lips curled, as if he found her sudden stammering unbelievable and an indication of prevarication.
Papa cleared his throat. “Lord Gargrave is a most sought-after young man.”
Young wasn’t the precise word Juno would use to describe somebody with graying sideburns and a crease down his brow, as if he’d frowned on so many occasions that nature had decided to give him the appearance of permanently frowning in a gesture of efficiency.
Lord Gargrave nodded solemnly. “It is a trying position. There are many who would like to see themselves ensconced in my castle.” He paused dramatically, as if expecting Juno to utter an exclamation of wonder. Her lips, though, remained firmly clasped together; she did not clap her hands in sudden excitement; and she was certain that her eyes were not sparkling.
Lord Gargrave’s shoulders slumped, then he inclined his head. “Perhaps you are unaware of how extraordinary it is to be in possession of a castle. The ignorant cannot be blamed for their ignorance.”
“How noble of you,” Papa said. “My daughter is simply shy.”
Lord Gargrave gave an understanding nod.
Juno bristled. Shy was a word that had never before been used to describe her. Her father had called her too chatty and too prone to say what was on her mind. Her former governesses had never once chided her for shyness even though they had not been reluctant to list her negative qualities, as if they were reciting a catechism for church and expected to be praised for not neglecting a single unideal quality.
“My castle is from the seventeenth century,” Lord Gargrave continued. “Not one of those newer buildings with oversize windows.”
He shook his head decisively, and Papa quickly followed, wrinkling his nose in evident disgust at the contemplation of newfangled architecture that included many windows, even though Papa had never once complained about large windows before. In fact, Papa had spoken approvingly of the new style.
Papa nudged Juno.
“How nice,” Juno said.
“Indeed.” Lord Gargrave glanced dismissively around the room. “London houses are small. They barely can be termed houses at all.”
Juno glanced at Papa automatically, but Papa was busy giving some variation of a laugh.
Papa struggled to find the humor in things generally, and no doubt it was doubly difficult to do it when faced with a guest so lacking in quality. Juno almost felt sorry for him. Still, her father valiantly resisted bringing up the seven bedrooms upstairs and the town house’s view of Grosvenor Square.
“You called for me, Papa?” Juno asked.
“Ah, yes!” Papa clapped his hands, and his curly gray hair bounced with the sudden force. “Where is Wilson?”
“You want me to fetch the butler?” Juno scrunched her forehead. Everyone was acting most mysteriously. Perhaps to
“Or the housemaid! Or even just a regular chambermaid!” Papa paced the library floor with enthusiasm. “We must have champagne. Tell them to bring it up at once. Three flutes!”
“Three?” Lord Gargrave raised an eyebrow. “Surely you do not permit your daughter to have champagne? A woman’s constitution is delicate.”
Papa paled. “Quite right. I would never do that. That was an—er—miscount. Tell the servants to bring up two flutes for the champagne and a glass of lemonade for you.”
Juno widened her eyes. She detested lemonade’s sour taste, which no amount of sugar ever seemed to mask. Papa had always permitted her to have champagne before, but perhaps now was not the time to remind him of that.
At least Papa was happy. Lately he’d spent so much time worrying over his ledgers, as if the mere act of staring at his books would turn the rows of numbers from red to black.
Juno informed Wilson of Papa’s request, then returned to the library.
“Lord Gargrave has a question he would like to ask you,” Papa said.
“Indeed, Lord Gargrave?” Juno turned to the viscount.
Lord Gargrave nodded. “You mustn’t worry. It is a very easy question for you to answer.”
“Ah, how nice of you to alleviate her worries,” Papa said. “He’s quite right, my dear.”
“I am aware of how much women are prone to worry about questions,” Lord Gargrave said. “That’s why one can’t find women at Cambridge or Oxford.”
“To be fair, women aren’t precisely permitted there,” Juno said.
“Indeed, I am not the first person to recognize education’s unsuitability for women,” Lord Gargrave said.
“It is most considerate of you to think of that,” Papa said. “You are a man of much empathy.”
Lord Gargrave’s cheeks turned a ruddy color, and his thick lips swerved up into something resembling a smile. He glided his eyes about the room.
“Is there something I can assist you with?” Juno asked uncertainly, wondering what question the viscount had in mind.
“I’m merely wondering the best place to ask the question,” Lord Gargrave said.
“But that’s not the question he wanted to ask you,” Papa hastened to say.
“Indeed not,” Lord Gargrave said solemnly.
“Lord Gargrave desired to ask you a question that can be answered with a simple yes!” Papa exclaimed.
“Is that so?” Juno’s heartbeat quickened as she pondered what possible question might require such an answer.
There was one question that immediately sprung to her mind, but she pushed the thought away. Lord Gargrave wouldn’t ask her that, surely?
“I—er—suppose this is a question best asked kneeling,” Lord Gargrave said. “You need some thicker carpet in here. You must inform the duchess.”
Papa nodded his head hastily up and down, as if Lord Gargrave was a bishop who’d just declared the importance of living a life of virtue. “Quite perceptive of you, wouldn’t you say, Juno?”
Juno nodded as she scoured her mind for a possible question that required one to kneel when asking it. Only one possibility rose in her mind.
Please don’t let him ask that. Please don’t let him ask that. Please don’t let him ask that.
In the next moment, Lord Gargrave grabbed a pillow from an armchair, then dropped it onto the floor. Juno attempted to not cringe as the carefully embroidered pillow hit the floorboards, but when Lord Gargrave sank his knee onto it, her shoulders stiffened, and her face froze.
“Lady Juno.” Lord Gargrave gazed up at her from the floor.
“He’s doing it!” Papa exclaimed and clasped his hands together. “It’s happening! It’s truly happening!” Papa rushed past them, swung the door open with such force that the crystal door handle thudded against the papered wall, and stuck his curly gray head into the corridor. “Servants! Come in! You must see this.”
Footsteps pounded through the hallway, and soon Millie, Wilson, and a few other servants crowded into the library.
Lord Gargrave cleared his throat, and Juno wondered whether he was as equally happy that Papa had ushered in the servants as Papa was.
“Lady Juno,” Lord Gargrave said, “will you please do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
Juno’s chest constricted, but she forced out a laugh.
“I’m glad the thought brings you so much pleasure,” Lord Gargrave said.
“Surely you mean it in jest.”
“Not at all,” Papa said. “Lord Gargrave is a dear confidant. And heaven knows you’ve frightened away every suitor in Hampshire.”
Juno’s eyes widened.
Papa was serious. How could he be serious about…this? About something so dreadful?
Lord Gargrave gave her another sly grin, but this time his gaze raked over her body, as if he was imagining her sprawled over his bed. Juno had the uncomfortable sensation the man was assessing her every curve, and she instantly longed for her fichu.
Papa gave a pleased look. Juno couldn’t remember the last time Papa had smiled.
This was why Papa had been happy today. This was why he’d insisted she wear her best dress.
He wanted her to marry that man.
Juno’s stomach tightened. She glanced at Lord Gargrave. His eyes might be small, but they scanned her quickly, darting from side to side. His lips pursed, and she had the terrible sensation that she might be disappointing to him.
“I—er—”
“Do speak up,” Lord Gargrave said. “Even women must speak up, though I know the process is difficult, given their softer natures.”
Juno glanced at Papa. The man was the picture of happiness. Juno hadn’t seen him so ecstatic in years. Even the servants seemed pleased. Smiles adorned their normally somber faces.
Juno moved her gaze back to the viscount.
Was he truly to become her husband? Was he truly going to be the man she most loved? Was he going to become her greatest friend? The man whose presence she would crave in her bed? The man with whom she would spend all eternity in a crypt?
No.
Juno couldn’t imagine a single of these things occurring.
He couldn’t become her husband.
He simply couldn’t.
“I’m afraid you’ve quite flummoxed me,” Juno said finally.
“Ah, evidence of the more mediocre intellect.” Condescension rippled through the viscount’s nasal voice.
“Do stand,” Juno said. “That pillow must be uncomfortable.”
“Answer me first.”
“Then the answer must be no.” Juno avoided Lord Gargrave’s eyes.
Unfortunately, she was not able to avoid them for long. In the next moment, Lord Gargrave sprang up, and his beady eyes boggled to an extent she did not think was possible. Perhaps Lord Gargrave might consider volunteering his time to the study of physical attributes instead of marriage to her.
“I must have misheard,” Papa said in a forlorn manner. He glanced at the servants hopefully. “I—er—think I misheard.”
“I did not mishear,” Lord Gargrave said in a firm voice, as if he was the Prince Regent regaling people of battles against Bonaparte that he had not fought.
“No, you did not,” Juno agreed.
Her acquiescence to his hearing ability did not cause the viscount to smile. Lord Gargrave’s face was grim and glowering and grievous. He lowered his torso into an abrupt bow, then sauntered from the room.
“Blast!” Papa exclaimed. “Wait! Lord Gargrave! She didn’t mean it. She’s a child. She doesn’t know a good thing when she sees it.”
His hollers were to no avail, given the fact that Papa returned to the library with a sour expression on his face. Papa paced the room with such speed Juno wondered whether he thought the action might cool himself. He flung his short hands upward, and his unfashionable gray wig tilted before he corrected it. “You were supposed to accept Lord Gargrave’s proposal.”
“I don’t want to marry him. He’s old.”
“Not that old,” Papa said, as if Juno had personally offended him.
“Old enough to be your friend,” Juno said softly.
Papa sighed. “Your mother and I did try to have children earlier.”
“I know, Papa.”
