Eva Shepherd - Beguiling The Duke

Miss van Haven had no doubt been given instructions from a very young age on the correct way to behave in every situation—and that wouldn’t have involved insulting her hosts by acting in such an outrageous manner.

Why she felt the need to behave in such a way Alexander could not fathom. Perhaps she felt her father’s wealth meant she did not have to abide by even the most basic principles of politeness. But, whatever the reason, he had more pressing issues to deal with than the bad behaviour of a frivolous American heiress.

The sooner he could tell Miss van Haven that she would not be the next Duchess of Knightsbrook the sooner they could end this tedious ritual and he could get back to his work of transforming the family estate into a productive, financially viable farm.

She turned and looked in his direction and he realised he had been staring at her. Despite himself, he held her gaze, unable to look away from those stunning blue eyes. The colour was so intense—like a cool lake on a warm afternoon. And, also like a lake, they seemed to contain hidden depths—as if there was a deep, unfathomable sadness behind all her game-playing.

Her excessive grin faltered slightly, and a blush tinged her cheeks before she turned her attention back to his mother and once again resumed her frantic nodding.

They reached the front door, where her maid was still standing, her arms crossed defiantly.

‘Now that I’ve introduced you to our family’s history, perhaps Alexander will escort you round the gardens while I attend to my other guests? Your maid can be your chaperon.’

The maid folded her arms more tightly, shot Miss van Haven a questioning look, and received a quick nod in reply. Alexander wondered at the silent exchange, which seemed more like one between equals than maid and mistress.

His mother nodded to Arabella, sent Alexander a stern look—which was no doubt an admonition to do his best to charm the heiress—and then departed.

Alexander suppressed a huff of irritation. Escorting this title-seeking American around the estate was not exactly how he had intended to spend the day, but at least it would give him an opportunity to set her straight. To let her know that she would not be the next Duchess of Knightsbrook.

Alone with the Duke—well, alone apart from Nellie—Rosie knew she had to keep her guard up. She could not let him see how much he unnerved her. She had to keep reminding herself that he was after Arabella’s money. That was all that mattered.

She sent him what she hoped was a confident smile and got a familiar stern look in return.

‘If I am to escort you round the gardens, can I make one request?’

She shook her head slightly. ‘A request?’

‘Yes—would you please stop this charade?’

One hand shot to her stomach; the other covered her mouth to stop a gasp from escaping. This was a disaster. He could see it was all an act. He knew she wasn’t Arabella. Her plan was ruined before it had begun.

She looked out through the glass doors to the gardens. Could she escape? No, that was ridiculous. She was in the middle of the Devon countryside, many miles from London. What was she going to do? Walk? All the way back to the train station?

No, she was going to have to bluff her way out of this.

She scanned the entrance hall. Her mind spun with half-formed excuses and explanations.

‘Charade?’ she squeaked.

‘Yes—this play-acting. You may have been able to shock my mother but it won’t work on me, Miss van Haven.’

Rosie released the breath she’d been holding and slowly lowered her hand from her mouth. He didn’t know she wasn’t Arabella. All was not lost.

‘Oh, yes. I’m sorry about that...’ She gestured around the entrance hall, her hand twirling in imitation of her entrance. ‘Just my little joke.’

His dark eyebrows drew together. He frowned slightly. ‘Really? Are you in the habit of making fun of your hosts?’

‘No, I...’ She stopped.

Why make excuses? After all, she didn’t want Lord Ashton to like her. She had to be completely unlikable if she was to convince him just what a thoroughly unacceptable duchess she would make.

‘Well, yes. I do it all the time. I love making fun of people. Don’t you?’

His frown deepened. ‘No, I don’t. Everyone deserves to be treated with respect, no matter who they are.’

Momentarily chastened, Rosie was tempted to agree with him—but she couldn’t. The one thing she did not want was to be was agreeable.

‘I guess we just see things completely differently. I think everyone is here for my entertainment and I like to have as much fun as possible. If people get offended and think I’m laughing at them—well, that’s hardly my fault. Is it?’

He stared at her for a moment longer, as if observing a strange animal on display at the zoological gardens. ‘I’m afraid I can’t answer that.’

The response was vague, but Rosie could read his intent in his rigid body language. She had her wish. The Duke disapproved of her.

‘Well, don’t you worry if you don’t know the answer. I’m sometimes not that smart either.’

‘I don’t doubt that, Miss van Haven.’

Rosie smiled. That almost sounded like an insult.

He offered her his arm. ‘Mother would like me to show you the gardens. Shall we...?’

She placed her hand on his forearm and resisted the temptation to give the muscles a little squeeze, just to see how they compared to a marble statue.

They walked out through double French doors, down some sweeping stone stairs and into the gardens, which looked just as magnificent at ground level as it had when she had driven through it in the carriage, with an abundance of trees, lush grasslands and a stunning lake adorned with ornate fountains.

As they strolled along a tree-lined pathway the soft green spring leaves rustled in the light breeze and small birds chirped and flitted between the branches. Rosie breathed in deeply and savoured the fresh country air. She had loved every moment of her time in London, but it was a joy to be in such beautiful, peaceful surroundings.

‘I don’t know how much you know about Knightsbrook, but this garden was designed for my great-great-grandfather in the mid-eighteenth century, by the famous landscape gardener Capability Brown,’ the Duke said, playing the role of dutiful host.

Rosie nodded. When she had first arrived she had wondered whether the garden was a Capability Brown design, as it had the natural look the landscape gardener was famous for.

She gave a small cough. ‘Capable who?’

‘Capability Brown—he designed some of the most beautiful and highly regarded gardens in England.’

‘Did he always plant so many trees? Trees are quite frightful, don’t you think?’

He stopped, turned to face her, and frowned. ‘You don’t like trees ?’

‘No—awful things. They shed their leaves, making an unsightly mess all over the place. Not to mention all the terrible birds they attract. And as for the mess those frightful creatures make—well, the less said about that the better. I think the world would be much better off without so many trees.’

He looked along the path, then back towards the house. ‘Then there’s probably little point continuing our walk along this path, as it leads to a woodland area that contains some of the most established specimens of English trees to be found in the country.’

‘Oh, no. I wouldn’t want to see that .’ Rosie gave a fake shudder. ‘Has this estate got anything other than trees to look at?’

He stared at her for a moment, his brow furrowed. ‘Perhaps you’d prefer to walk alongside the lake?’