Page 1 of Loved by a Duke

L ady Eleanor, Duchess of Smythington

I sat at the mahogany table at Smythington House in London. Thirty of my closest friends and family were in attendance for our commemorative dinner in the grand dining room with its rich burgundy walls and polished brass gaslight chandelier.

Everyone was gathered to celebrate our twentieth anniversary. The wine flowed freely, and I took another sip from my glass, my head in a pleasant place. After months of planning, I was free to enjoy the fruits of my labors.

“I would like to propose a toast to Lady Eleanor and Lord Rex, the Duke and Duchess of Smythington.” Lord Flynn, Earl of Larsson, lifted his glass and flashed me a charming smile. “Twenty years ago today, I stood at the front of this very table and toasted my best friend and his beautiful bride. I stand here to say I love and admire them as much today as I did then.” He lifted the glass high and drank deeply. “To the duke and duchess.”

“To the duke and duchess,” the guests said in unison. Following Flynn’s lead, everyone drank their champagne.

Both Flynn and Rex had courted me at the same time. Flynn had been—and as a widower still was—a rake. Rex carried a quiet assurance that appealed to my more reserved nature. I had been torn between the two men until my father took the decision out of my hands.

“To my duchess.” Rex offered me an affectionate grin, the laugh lines around his striking green eyes making an appearance. Squeezing my hand, he lifted his glass and clinked it against mine. I wasn’t expecting the gesture, and my glass tilted dangerously, the champagne nearly bubbling over the rim. With a quick hand, he clasped my wrist, stopping the mishap from happening.

Our eyes locked, and my chest swelled with love for him. “Thank you.”

Rex stood to address the guests. A rarity for him. While he had to speak to dignitaries daily, he wasn’t outgoing and preferred to stay private. “Although twenty years have passed, every time I look at Eleanor, I am reminded of the first time I met her at a ball. She disappeared at the stroke of midnight, and I...” He grinned at me. “Oh wait, that was Cinderella. Eleanor and I danced until dawn, and I knew exactly who she was. The woman I love.”

“Anne is fond of saying our marriage reads like her favorite fairytale,” I explained to our guests. His kind words warmed my heart, and I wished I could spend more time with him like this. However, he was gone more often than he was home, and when he was home, our son, Harry, was his top priority.

“I can see how Eleanor might be a princess, but Rex...” Flynn shrugged, holding his glass between his fingertips. “Well, Rex is definitely the frog prince.”

“Let’s put your theory to the test.” Rex leaned down and bestowed a kiss to my lips, much to the delight of those gathered. The gentle press of his mouth against mine sparked my dormant desires, and I longed to capture the passion we shared in abundance when we first wed.

Conscious of being watched, I broke the kiss and turned to look at Flynn. At seventeen, I was uncertain whom to choose between the two high-profile gentlemen. I had been leaning toward Rex because there was something about him that appealed to my soul. He had a way of reading my thoughts, and his kisses incited my passions. Flynn’s strong frame, rakish air, and cutting wit excited me at the time. He had asked for my hand first but my father turned down his offer and accepted Rex’s. Although he couldn’t truly have forced me to marry Rex, I agreed because, deep down, it was what I had wanted. “I believe you are wrong. Rex is still a man without a wart in sight.”

“Papa isn’t a frog, Uncle Flynn,” Harry said, his voice breaking through the laughter that erupted during our teasing.

“No, I am not a frog, my son.” Rex nodded, a devoted father to our youngest who had challenges. The responsibilities of raising a family and serving the crown took precedence over romance, turning our fairytale love story into an illusion. Perhaps my days of romance were behind me, and I could find solace in the happiness of others. Everything inside of me screamed foul. I smiled at the people staring at us with expectation when inside, I felt like crying.

“Indeed, the mystery has been solved.” Flynn leaned back in his seat, affection for Rex in his regard. Tall with broad shoulders and a commanding air, Flynn was on the cusp of his fortieth year. Although there was silver at his temples, he had the same dynamic energy of his youth. I had made him promise me he wouldn’t tell Rex about his proposal so many years ago, thus saving us more drama.

“Will you join me to say a few words?” Rex held out his hand to me, and I laid my gloved palm on his.

“Of course.” I stood and moved to his side. My head carried a pleasant glow from the wine, and I locked my knees to keep from swaying. “Thank you for celebrating with us tonight. While much has changed over the past twenty years, the constant in my life is Rex, my beloved children Atticus, Anne, and Harry, as well as our friendship with Lord Flynn and my dear friend Lady Olivia.”

Olivia married Flynn’s brother the same year he married Mary. Mary and I had been inseparable since childhood, and I missed her every day. Since her death, Olivia and I grew closer.

“Any words of advice?” Olivia’s son called out, his handsome face similar to his uncle’s. Nigel had been waiting for his eighteenth year to ask for my daughter’s hand. The match had been foretold by fate the second both children were born. Rex and I never pressured Anne to marry Nigel. The two of them had been bonded by a hand greater than ours.

“My words of advice to everyone are to close your mouth and open your ears.” Rex curled his fingers into mine, a mischievous tilt to his lips.

If he would simply take his own words to heart . I shut down the cynical thought. This was a time of celebration, not a time to dwell on my grievances. I had been feeling lost lately and I vacillated between resentment and self-pity. It was very unlike me and I wished I could shake the adverse emotions, but they seemed to be growing stronger.

“Well said, well said,” Olivia replied.

“My advice to you, in particular, is to never upset your future father-in-law,” Rex said to Nigel.

Nigel blushed but laughed with the guests nonetheless. “What is the duchess’s advice?”

I considered my words with care. Everyone was watching us and I wasn’t exactly thinking clearly. There was one point I wanted to get across. I kept my gaze locked on those gathered, hoping Rex might take my words to heart. He might be pulled in all different directions, but so was I. “Be grateful for what you have and never take each other for granted.”

“Here, here. Well said, well said,” Flynn cheered. From the gleam in his gaze, I wasn’t the only one inebriated.

“I want to thank my dear friend Flynn for his kind words. As you all can hear, the music has commenced. I recommend we move to the ballroom to continue the festivities,” I said, the walls seeming to close in on me. Overwhelmed didn’t begin to describe my emotional turmoil. Soon, Harry would be at Knutchester boarding school for the first time, Atticus at Oxford University for the next round of classes, and I expected Anne would be married before the year was out. The house would be empty without them. What would my life be like with an absent husband and an empty nest?

Rex looped my hand through his arm, and we began to leave the dining room. “I believe I owe you a dance.”

“ Owe sounds rather like a burden I put on you,” I said before I could filter myself. There was a time we danced the night away. In recent years, more often than not, I went to the ballroom and he stayed in the cardroom. Two people living separate lives.

Eyes widening at my sarcastic observation, he merely nodded. He offered me a sheepish grin. “You are correct. It does sound rather transactional. If you are amenable, I would consider it an honor to dance with you.”

“I would consider it an honor to accept.” I wanted to enjoy our time together and keep my mind from drifting to a bleak future. For most of my marriage, my focus was on my three children and Rex. That was all changing. At thirty-seven, I was hardly in the grave, yet life felt like it was passing me by.

The long, narrow ballroom was decorated with large urns of flowers that carried a romantic air. Gas lamps cast a soft glow over the ivory wallpaper and polished wooden floors. The musicians I had hired were on a balcony overlooking the dance floor.

“The music is quite nice,” Rex said. He moved to the dance floor and held out his arms for me. I went into them gladly. My palm in his, he settled his fingers on my waist.

“I handpicked the orchestra. They came highly recommended.” I had given them a list of songs to play, some of which I had composed myself. Music spoke to me and had since a young age. I couldn’t explain how notes and composition formulated inside my head. One of my lifelong dreams was to enroll at the National Training School of Music. However, my father didn’t believe women should voice their opinions or draw attention to themselves in any way. With my birthright and pleasant looks, he predicted bigger things for me. Sadly, my mother had been of the same mind, and they had forbidden me to apply. That long-ago dream faded into the past.

“The violinist is exceptional.” He spun me around the floor, the strains of the waltz serenading us. “Almost as exceptional as your skills on the violin.”

The compliment warmed more than anything else could. With renewed purpose, I moved closer to Rex until our hips brushed each other’s. He looked at me, his head tilted as if trying to gauge if I had misstepped. I repeated the move, trying to hold back my smile. Eyes narrowing, he pulled me tighter to his body, a challenge in his smile. Cognizant of people watching us, I debated my next move. “Would it be rude of us to leave?” I asked.

“I believe it might be construed as rude.” A familiar light of desire lit his eyes, a touch of color on his cheeks.

It had been ages since he looked at me like this, and my toes curled in my shoes. We had a house full of people who had come to celebrate with us, yet I wanted to be alone with him. Perhaps tonight, we could stoke the flames of passion and capture what had been lost. “Maybe we can sneak away for a while.”

“We managed it twenty years ago tonight.” Rex continued to hold me close, the steps of the dance a seduction on their own. The reminder of our wedding night sparked my blood. He danced me off the floor, his hand gripping mine. Excitement flared between us, a trigger I hadn’t felt in ages.

“Mama, Papa, your dancing looked so romantic,” Anne said from somewhere behind me. I glanced over my shoulder to see her and Atticus standing on the sidelines, along with Nigel and Harry. While all three of my children resembled their father with the same bright green eyes, Harry was the only one with blond hair. I lost two children between giving birth to the twins and Harry and often wondered what they would have been like. More tears threatened to fall at the loss Rex and I suffered. Like me, he had been devastated. I forced my mind to leave the heartache tucked into my consciousness. It wouldn’t be conducive to my peace of mind at this moment to pile more anxiety onto my plate.

“I want to go to bed.” Harry shifted from foot to foot, his anxiety clear. Hand outstretched, he stared at his father with expectation. Rex was his hero, and like me, he missed his father, who was gone most nights. Because of his challenges, we tended to coddle Harry more than we should.

“You are old enough to take yourself to bed,” Atticus said, laying his hand on his brother’s shoulder. Of all of us, my eldest son was less prone to mollycoddling Harry. On nights such as this, I agreed. My body still hummed with unfulfilled desire for the earlier promise in my husband’s eyes.

“Please, Papa, I want you to take me,” Harry pleaded.

Rex shared a resigned look with me, and I nodded. If we didn’t act, Harry would become more agitated.

“Come on, Harry.” Rex took his hand and offered me an apologetic smile. “We will continue our discussion when I return.”

“I will hold you to that.” Twenty years ago this eve, we had consummated our marriage. While we were no longer in the bloom of youth, I still heard the swell of music whenever he held me in his arms.

“Since Papa is otherwise occupied, will you partner me in a dance?” Atticus held out his hand to me. When he turned twelve, he hadn’t wished to be cosseted anymore. During the first year of my marriage, I had worried that I might never get with child. I was ecstatic when I found out I was increasing with the twins. After the two failed pregnancies, my despair returned until Harry came. Since then, I had given up hope. If, by some twist of fate, I found myself increasing again, I would be happy. However, I had a sense that that ship had sailed.

“That would be lovely.” I was proud yet pained to realize Atticus was a full-grown man about to make his own way in the world. It was a natural order of things, and although my logical mind told me that, my heart had different ideas. He was home for a fortnight, and then he’d be attending Oxford. The fact he wanted to spend time with me made me acquiesce. I allowed my son to guide me into the lively country dance. Anne and Nigel completed our set, their exuberance contagious. I turned to curtsy to Nigel and caught sight of Flynn watching me with his penetrating regard.

Our eyes locked, and he didn’t look away. There was a hint of longing in his expression, which stole my breath. Once, long ago, he had sworn his love to me. I had thought that had faded over time. From the intensity in his expression, I might be wrong.

The steps of the dance forced me to turn away, goosebumps chasing up and down my spine. It must be the wine. I resisted the urge to look back at him. Our brief romance existed in the past, yet the memory of frolicking in the fountain and the way he’d kissed me and touched my breasts flamed a dormant need deep inside my core.

My steps faltered, and Atticus frowned. “Are you all right?”

“My slipper caught on my skirt,” I lied, forcing a smile.

The wine and Rex’s seduction had fired my blood, not Flynn. Our romance ended the day I accepted Rex’s proposal. Once my husband finished with Harry, I would insist we have a rendezvous. Even thinking about it tightened my nipples and inflamed my need for his touch.

Rex couldn’t return soon enough. Tonight, I prayed we would rekindle the flame in our marriage and regain the connection that seemed to have faded overnight.