Christine Merrill - The Brooding Duke Of Danforth

Stranded at a house party

with the mysterious duke...

When a storm hits, outspoken Abigail Prescott is trapped at a house party with Benedict Moore, the Duke of Danforth—the very man she was once betrothed to! Wishing to know the man she was to marry, Abigail had called off their sudden engagement. But reunited once more, Benedict seems determined to win her back and make her his duchess. His method: irresistible seduction...

CHRISTINE MERRILL lives on a farm in Wisconsin, USA, with her husband, two sons and too many pets—all of whom would like her to get off the computer so they can check their e-mail. She has worked by turns in theatre costuming and as a librarian. Writing historical romance combines her love of good stories and fancy dress with her ability to stare out of the window and make stuff up.

Also by Christine Merrill

The Secrets of Wiscombe Chase

The Wedding Game

A Convenient Bride for the Soldier

The de Bryun Sisters miniseries

The Truth About Lady Felkirk

A Ring from a Marquess

Those Scandalous Stricklands miniseries

Regency Christmas Wishes

A Kiss Away from Scandal

How Not to Marry an Earl

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

The Brooding Duke of Danforth

Christine Merrill

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-08904-3

THE BROODING DUKE OF DANFORTH

© 2019 Christine Merrill

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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www.millsandboon.co.uk

Version: 2020-03-02

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To James. For knocking down doors.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Extract

About the Publisher

‘Was there no other way than to spend an evening here?’ Lady Beverly tapped her foot, fighting against the rhythm of the music. ‘Meagre refreshments, tepid dancing and tiresome company will make for the dullest evening imaginable.’

‘You did not have to accompany me, Lenore,’ replied Benedict Moore, Fourth Duke of Danforth. ‘But as you keep reminding me, it is time I married. One hunts for rabbits in the field and fish in the stream. When one is hunting for a wife, one comes to Almack’s.’

‘You are correct that I have been telling you so for years. But why have you suddenly decided to listen?’

‘Considering the family history, I might not have much longer to make such a decision.’ Or the faculties to do so. He did not add the comment, but remembering his father’s final year, the possibility that he might end his days babbling in a sickbed was never far from his mind.

‘You are of an entirely different sort than your father,’ Lenore said. ‘You are not given to excesses of diet or temper. If anything, Danforth, people say that you are not emotional enough. I doubt you will be prone to apoplexy, even later in life.’

‘Perhaps not,’ he agreed. ‘But when he died, the last Danforth was three years older than I am now. I have held his title for half my life. It is time that I see to securing the succession.’

‘True. But I cannot imagine you making a match with any of the girls here,’ she said, glancing around the room with a critical frown. ‘They are all far too...’ She gave a dismissive wave of her hand. ‘The incessant giggling sets my teeth on edge.’

‘When I first met you, you had a giggle that was perfectly charming,’ he said.

‘I was twelve at the time,’ she reminded him. ‘And you were ten and too easily impressed.’ She made another sweeping gesture with her fan. ‘By the time I made my come out, I had cured myself of such annoying habits.’

‘You were truly terrifying,’ he agreed. ‘And not the least bit impressed by me or my new title.’

‘You wanted seasoning,’ she said with an affectionate smile.

A decade and a half had given it to him, if one counted the first grey hairs appearing at his temples. He glanced around the room at the current crop of debutantes and tried to work up some enthusiasm for them. Lenore was right. They were all unbelievably young.

But unlike Lenore in her prime, these were easily impressed. Too much so, in his opinion. When he spoke to them, he saw avarice rather than desire. They wanted the Danforth jewel case and the lines of credit on Bond Street where the shopkeepers would bow and scrape to ‘Her Grace’. They wanted to sit at the foot of the finest table in England. He was little more than a means to an end.

The knowledge was infinitely depressing.

‘Have you at least made an effort to mingle with them?’ Lenore pressured, assessing the crowd with a critical eye. ‘You cannot be your usual taciturn self. Even if acceptance of your offer is assured, you must make an effort to speak with them.’