Improper Duke: Scandalous Encounters Read online

  Improper Duke: Scandalous Encounters

  Title Page

  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

  Epilogue

  About Kristabel Reed

  Improper Duke

  Scandalous Encounters

  by Kristabel Reed

  Copyright © 2016 by Kristabel Reed

  Smashwords Edition

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  A Wicked ePub® Original Publication

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  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in whole or in part without written permission from the publisher, except by reviewers who may quote brief excerpts in connection with a review.

  This book is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

  Formatted by: CyberWitch Press

  Chapter One

  LONDON, ENGLAND

  DECEMBER 1817

  MRS. CAMILLA PRIMSBY wandered through the crush at Lady Lindor’s birthday ball. She let her critical eye wander over the groups, the single young ladies laughing in a corner, who watched whom from across the room, who made it a point to be introduced.

  She tried never to miss a thing.

  She enjoyed everything about matchmaking and knew she was very good at it. A small smile flitted across her full lips. Camilla thought back to Lillian Norwood and wondered if the other woman took advantage of her slyly subtle match with Mr. William Pennington. She’d have to write Miss Norwood to see if aught came from that Christmas feast.

  But that was neither here nor there.

  Tonight, she had two items on her agenda. One was to see to Mademoiselle Lizette Fortescue and the Marquess of Montagu. They had courted for months now, and Camilla wished to see if it progressed to a betrothal, as she believed it would.

  The second was to find suitable matches for the Earl of Hawkhurst. Camilla didn’t quite understand why the Duke of Axton hired her and not the earl himself.

  Camilla stepped into the dining room and took a glass of punch. Lukewarm, it nonetheless cooled her throat in the heat of the townhouse. She stepped closer to the open French doors, where the cold wind eased the heat of so many people. The candles flickered against the breeze, and she watched a footman relight several snuffed candles as if his entire reason for being in that room was to do so.

  She smiled at the thought, one that probably wasn’t too far off, and turned back to the room at large.

  From this vantage point, she noted several eligible women for Hawkhurst. Their interview this afternoon gave her an idea of what he was about, even if Camilla felt the earl withheld certain aspects.

  Withheld several things, if she wasn’t mistaken. And Camilla prided herself on being a superb judge of character.

  Hawkhurst wished for a woman who did not simper or blindly follow the ton. A woman who knew her own mind. Financially shrewd though she need not necessarily possess a fortune.

  Camilla’s first thought was Lady Octavia Granville; however, she instantly dismissed the woman. Her understanding was that Lady Octavia could not bear to be within five feet of Hawkhurst.

  Pity. She’d make an excellent match in every other way.

  Shaking her head, Camilla moved from the doors and back into the ball. She smoothed her hand down her sage green gown, the wool of it soft and warm beneath her fingers. First she’d seek out Lizette.

  The other woman beamed when she spotted Camilla. Clearly a subtle interview was not needed, and she returned the smile. Beside Lizette, the marquess stood proudly, also beaming. Lizette turned to him and said something Camilla couldn’t hear over the roar of the crush, but Montagu obediently bowed, touched her hand with the faintest brush of intimacy, and left.

  Lizette closed the distance between them in several quick steps and wrapped her arm through Camilla’s.

  A curvaceous woman with a generous form, Lizette Fortescue was as bright and energetic as any woman Camilla had ever met. She knew Lizette and Montagu would make a good long-term match, despite Miss Eleanor Richardson setting her sights on the marquess.

  Petty though it was, Camilla was pleased Montagu ignored the spoiled girl and devoted all his attention to Lizette.

  “Mrs. Primsby,” Lizette whispered as quietly as the room allowed, “I’m so happy. I can’t believe it. We are so perfectly matched, the marquess and I. How in heavens did you ever think of reaching so high for someone like me?”

  “You are perfectly lovely,” Camilla assured her. “And a perfect fit for the marquess. He loves curvaceous women,” she added with a wink.

  Lizette blushed, but her smile widened. “He does!” Her voice rose just slightly as she added, “We have so much in common, it’s frightening. And I’ve never felt so beautiful as when he looks at me.”

  She stopped and turned and said very seriously, “I’ll sing your praises forever, Mrs. Primsby. Whatever you need, whenever, simply call on me.”

  “Thank you,” Camilla said sincerely. “It’s such an honor to have a marchioness-to-be as a friend.”

  Lizette laughed, a bright, happy sound that echoed over the din. Nothing could dull Lizette’s joy, and Camilla was beyond pleased for her.

  “Has a date been chosen for the wedding?” Camilla asked, her own smile wide in response.

  Lizette nodded. “In two weeks. We’re staying at the estate until the winter passes. Then we’re to travel the Continent. I’m excited about the trip, but I know I’m going to enjoy having my husband to myself for several months prior.”

  Oh, Camilla had no doubt. And if the Marquess and Marchioness of Montagu didn’t announce a baby by spring, Camilla might just hang up her hat of the whole matchmaking business.

  Tapping Lizette on the hand, she agreed. “I know you will.”

  Several women tried to catch Lizette’s attention and Camilla smiled and stepped back.

  “Go on, speak with your friends.”

  Lizette nodded and kissed Camilla’s cheek before all but skipping off. Not the most decorous behavior for a marchioness, but then that’s not why Camilla matched Lizette with Montagu. The man didn’t need decorous—he needed vibrancy.

  With a grin still hovering around her lips, Camilla turned and looked at the crowd. And there was Miss Eleanor Richardson, the Viscount Claybourne’s daughter. She looked more speculative than angry, her gaze focused entirely on Camilla and not Montagu or Lizette. Suddenly Camilla knew Miss Richardson was going to seek out her services.

  There was something about the viscount’s daughter that Camilla did not like, and she refused to take on a case where a party was miserable. A woman who spoke whatever you wished to hear to your face, Miss Richardson was a vindictive gossip with no thought to whom she hurt with her careless words.

  She didn’t often decline a new client, but even as she turned from the younger woman, Camilla composed her rejection to the viscountess and her daughter.

  On to item number two: the Earl of Hawkhurst.


  While Camilla hadn’t yet seen him here, this afternoon when they spoke he did tell her he planned to attend Lady Lindor’s ball. Quickly scanning the room, Camilla looked for him even as her mind once more drifted to their interview this afternoon.

  What was it that lay behind his eyes? That pained, haunted look she glimpsed—there and gone. But it’d been there, she was positive of that. He served in His Majesty’s Army, though there was precious little information about his time and even less gossip, which surprised her.

  Then again, over two years after Waterloo, people’s memories dimmed. On to the next gossip, the next scandal.

  A handsome man with integrity and honor, he seemed lost. Always lost in the Old Bailey for sure, Camilla wondered if he was simply shy, preferring the law to society. If she did find a woman, would Hawkhurst open up?

  She still didn’t think him ready for marriage, not with that haunted look he wore like a cloak. However, he was her next job, and Camilla prided herself on securing matches for all her clients.

  Even the former Isabella Harrington. Despite the woman refusing her services, Camilla had introduced her to the Duke of Strathmore, and now they expected their first child. Yes, she definitely counted that as a match she made.

  Humming slightly to herself, Camilla wandered around the dancers, watching them pair up and retreat, only to end up together at the end of the song, the perfect analogy for what she, herself, accomplished.

  “Oh.” Camilla stopped and stepped back. She hadn’t paid attention to where she walked and had run into a tall man. “Pardon.”

  She went to step around him, but he stepped back into her path. She frowned.

  “Entirely my fault, Mrs. Primsby,” he said in a deep voice that rumbled through the air around her.

  Camilla blinked up at him. “I don’t believe I’ve had the honor of your acquaintance, sir.”

  “Forgive me again,” he said with a little bow. “You were pointed out to me by the Marquess of Montagu. I’m Gareth the Duke of Axton.”

  Oh. She’d not had the pleasure of meeting Axton before, but of course knew of him. The duke had sent her the letter securing her services for Hawkhurst.

  “Your Grace, a pleasure.” She nodded and curtseyed. “If I may be so bold, it is rather peculiar a gentleman who retains my services for a friend and not a family member.”

  His lips turned up in a warm smile, and his eyes glinted with laughter. “I’m sure. However, I consider Hawkhurst family.”

  Camilla nodded and smiled in return. “How very generous of you, Your Grace.”

  She paused and studied him for a moment. She understood Axton spent much of the last year in Scotland, with friends, recuperating after the war.

  His blue eyes were impossibly dark and shone with humor and intelligence. The candlelight glinted off his dark blond hair. When he smiled, a small dimple showed on his right cheek. Camilla blinked and forced her attention back on the matter at hand. Very rarely had she noted a man’s appearance the way she did Axton’s.

  Unless Axton hired her to match-make him, she had no business staring at him so. And not even then.

  “Your Grace, I wonder if I might trouble you for some insight into Lord Hawkhurst’s desires in a mate,” she said and gestured to a relatively quiet corner of the room.

  It did not escape her notice the number of eyes on her and Axton, and Camilla suppressed a smirk. No doubt the gossips already wondered who she planned to match the duke with.

  With his hands clasped behind his back, he studied her with more interest than she felt warranted for the situation. That knowledge did not matter, it seemed. A warm flush rushed through her, and Camilla found herself uncharacteristically twisting her reticule around her fingers.

  Frowning at her movements, she smoothed her fingers down the silk reticule and schooled her features into a polite, professional smile.

  Flattered at his interest or not, this was neither the time nor place for such things.

  “I’m afraid I cannot,” Axton said with a small shake of his head. “Hawkhurst is very private when it comes to matters of the heart.”

  He flashed her a quick grin, and Camilla tried not to stare at the dimple. It was most unbecoming. “I’m certain with your skill and experience, you’ll be able to introduce him to an appropriate woman.”

  “I shall endeavor to do my best.” She held up a hand. “But I must warn you, I do have quite a bit of experience with this, Your Grace.” She shook her head and continued slowly, “Lord Hawkhurst does not strike me as a man ready to take a wife.”

  Axton hesitated, and she realized he also knew but refused to say. Interesting. What sort of friendship did he and Hawkhurst share? And what sort of man was Axton to hire a matchmaker for a friend, especially one not ready to marry?

  “I understand if you cannot find a woman at this time,” Axton said as low as their small corner allowed, “he’ll be ready one day. Hawkhurst must simply rid himself of old ghosts.”

  Camilla nodded in sudden understanding. They all had their share of ghosts, and she wondered once more what haunted Hawkhurst. “Sometimes,” she told the duke with more emotion than she meant to convey, “ghosts don’t let go.”

  Axton nodded, but his gaze remained sharp and steady on hers. He cleared his throat and turned slightly from her, breaking the unexpected intimacy between them.

  Camilla breathed more freely, though she didn’t understand how so brief a meeting created such intimacy so quickly.

  “It’s made the rounds that you are responsible for the Duke of Strathmore’s wedding.” Axton watched her, but his face betrayed nothing. “I saw them briefly on my return from Scotland. She’s very lovely. And he’s another happy man you left in your wake.”

  “Yes, especially for one as esteemed as a duke,” she said primly but met his gaze and allowed him to see her humor.

  “Yes, I’m sure we’re a demanding lot,” Axton agreed with an equally pompous tone. But those beautiful blue eyes sparkled once more with laughter. The sparkle was obviously directed at her. “Even for such a small club.”

  He turned back from the dancing, clearly as uninterested as she, and tilted his head just slightly. “How do you do it? How do you mix the brew that results in a romance?”

  “By careful observation,” Camilla said, allowing dribs of her profession to play out. “You wouldn’t put a gregarious woman with a sullen man, would you?” She tilted her head and grinned slyly. “Or a shy girl with the Duke of Axton.”

  Axton laughed, a rich, echoing sound that made her want to hear it all the time. Camilla pushed that away. She had no business admiring his laugh as anything more than a professional observation.

  “No, that wouldn’t fit, would it?” he asked, that same humor coloring his voice.

  “No,” Camilla allowed and grinned wider. “I saw that from the first.”

  “Very astute, Mrs. Primsby.” Axon nodded. His voice quieted, lowering once more to intimate. “I prefer women with a sharp eye.”

  She raised an eyebrow and studied him once more. Those watchful eyes, the sheer stillness, the complete attention he paid her. “Have you thought of retaining my services for yourself?”

  “No.” The word was sharp and definitive. “I like to do my own hunting.”

  Her lips curved into a knowing smile. “I’m sure you do,” she agreed. “I pity your prey.”

  From the corner of her eye she saw someone purposefully making their way toward them. But she couldn’t look away, couldn’t tear her gaze from the mesmerizing one of Axton.

  “You should.”

  Chapter Two

  CAMILLA SAT IN the niche Mrs. Rowenna Everett dragged her into and was most definitely not scanning the room in search of the Duke of Axton. Just because the man interested her—and tempted her, indeed—intrigued her.

  No. Not tempted. Intrigued and interested, yes. He was a handsome man with an air about him that didn’t tempt her but…intrigued her. Yes, she’d stick with that word. It suited th
e duke.

  “And Lavinia is so pleased you’ve agreed to match her,” Rowenna was saying. Again.

  Camilla tuned her out again. She disliked conducting business at balls and parties. They were a time for her to seek out potential matches for clients she already had and observe potential men—or women—in their environment, with friends or rivals within this social group.

  It was certainly not listen to the wishes of mothers for their daughters.

  Axton was watching her again. He had throughout the night, though they hadn’t spoken since that aborted conversation hours ago now. Camilla met his gaze and wondered what it was about the man that made her unable to look away.

  She’d never truly considered a match for herself, and certainly never with a man so far above her station.

  Camilla tore her gaze from his, so direct even across the room, and continued to look around. Hawkhurst arrived an hour ago. He looked lost and alone even as he conversed amicably enough with several people. She saw him laugh as well, though he held himself physically aloof from the others, always a step further back than warranted.

  Rowenna continued on, and Camilla regretted agreeing to speak with her. She knew the other woman’s penchant for prattling but hadn’t thought a birthday bash the time for listing every nuance of her daughter’s character.

  She agreed to take on Lavinia Everett as a client but now thought that a huge mistake.

  “And as I’ve said, what you’ve done for Miss Lizette is just a miracle, a miracles of miracles,” Rowenna said for a third time. “I expect just as much for my Lavinia. Though of course we’ll settle for an earl if that’s all that’s available.”

  She leaned closer, and Camilla resisted the urge to shift away.

  “But one with coin,” Rowenna added. “While my Lavinia has a substantial dowry, I cannot bear the thought of it being squandered on some ruined estate. He must have a level head on his shoulders and many, many, many rents to collect. Lavinia is used to a certain way of life, and she must be kept to that standard or elevated.”