The Duke's Passion

The Rogue’s Bride

CHAPTER ONE

Lord Anthony Randall groaned loudly as the curtains in his bedchamber were thrown open. A stream of sunlight hit him across the face, making his head burn with pain.

Close those at once! he barked, throwing his arm across his eyes to block out the light. Whatever do you think you are doing? I shall have you dismissed!

The maid, however, was used to the bluster that accompanied him when he woke and ignored his orders entirely. Instead, she placed the breakfast tray on the small table by the roaring fire and left the room, clearly not in the least bit concerned over what Anthony had threatened.

Muttering under his breath, Anthony wondered whether he had enough energy to get out of bed and close the drapes once more before crawling back under the covers, or if he was best to simply deal with the fact that he had been awakened for a reason and was obviously expected.

The maid had evidently been following his grandmother’s orders, given how she had ignored his instructions, which meant that there would be consequences if he did not rise from his bed.

Groaning out of frustration rather than pain, Anthony dropped his arm back to his side and tried to open his eyes. His head screamed as he blinked in the sunlight and he squeezed his eyes tightly shut for a few moments until he ventured to open them again.

Throwing back the bed linens and quilt, he walked across the cold wooden floor to the fire, dressed only in his nightshirt. How he had the presence of mind to change out of his clothes last night, he could not say, for he had imbibed a great deal of liquor.

Most likely his butler, the ever-faithful Joseph, would have waited up to assist him, although Anthony could not even remember climbing the stairs to his room. It must have been a damned good evening if he could not recall a thing about it.

His stomach churned, but Anthony drank the coffee and ate his toast regardless, knowing that, even though everything in him wanted to refuse to eat or drink a single thing, he was determined to lose his headache. By his second cup, Anthony was beginning to feel a little better and he sat back in his chair with a sigh.

The day was bright, although it looked as though the sun was already beginning to fade. Glancing at the clock, Anthony was surprised to see that it was already late afternoon – not that the time particularly mattered. He had become a creature of the night of late, spending his days in bed and his nights out with friends, at whatever soiree or ball they could find, and if not there, then at a club or gaming hall.

A frown wrinkled his brow. The truth of the matter was that Anthony had very little idea about what to do with his future. He had no direction, no thought of where to take his next steps.

It seemed too proper, too much like duty and that was the one thing he did not particularly care for. Duty meant propriety. It meant acting with thought and good sense, and Anthony was quite enjoying not having to worry about such things.

At times, he was perturbed by his lack of future direction, but it was easy to push such thoughts away, especially when there was good liquor and easy women to be enjoyed. Besides, at only four and twenty, he was still a young man with many good years ahead of him.

There was a scratch at the door. Anthony called for the person to enter, only for his butler to appear with a slightly apologetic look on his face.

Forgive me for my tardiness, my lord, he said, hastily walking over towards Anthony. I did not know you had awoken.

Anthony shrugged. It is of little consequence. I am only just awake, as it is, but I presume from the rude way I was awakened that my grandfather wishes to speak to me, so I suppose I must dress.

Joseph nodded, walking towards the wardrobe to pick out Anthony’s clothes.

Anthony watched him for a moment, a slightly puzzled expression coming across his face. Did I come home late last night?

You did, my lord, his butler replied, without a hint of censure in his voice. Accompanied by a young lady.

A jolt ran through him. That was a surprise. He never brought women home.

A lady?

Indeed, my lord.

I did not wake up with anyone beside me, Anthony murmured, his frown deepening as he tried to recall what had happened. Are you quite sure I was not alone?

I believe she left in the early hours of the morning, his butler replied, his face expressionless as he laid out Anthony’s clothes. I came in promptly to rescue your cravat and other such garments.

He sighed heavily, making Anthony more than aware that his butler was quite displeased with how he must have hastily discarded his clothing.

Anthony tried to remember who it was he had taken to his bed, but his mind conjured up no picture of the lady, nor of any pleasures they might have shared. That was more than a little frustrating, but it was, unfortunately, one of the consequences of drinking too much brandy.

It was not uncommon for Anthony to take women to his bed, but he normally had his eye on them for some time beforehand. They had to be just right – women who did not wish for matrimony or the like but were seeking a liaison of sorts. They were mostly wealthy widows although, at times, Anthony had occasion to visit some local establishments. However, whoever this lady was who had warmed his bed, Anthony simply had no recollection of her whatsoever.

Shrugging off the feeling of unease, he decided that there was nothing for it but to ask one of his many friends, once he’d listened to whatever it was his grandfather had to say. Tonight was another night of dancing and cards, with a great deal of liquor likely to be thrown in and he did not particularly want to have his grandfather’s words ringing around his ears for the rest of the day.

He would listen, mumble something as he usually did, and then make his way from the house. Surely someone would know who this mysterious lady had been? Then again, perhaps she wanted to remain anonymous. The thought made his lips curve into a smile, as he began to look forward to the evening’s pleasures. Yes, indeed, life was very good – and he was sure it was only going to get better.

CHAPTER TWO

Lord Anthony Randall stood outside his grandfather’s bedroom, still holding the doorknob in his hand. He was handsome, so handsome that many times he had to hide from overly ambitious young women, their aunts and once in a while mothers too.

His looks were the bane of his existence, even though he sometimes made full use of them to get whatever he wanted. Deep blue, brooding eyes and thick eyebrows gave him a mysterious look. He hadn’t a care in the world. But not with his grandfather. His grandmother sometimes, but not his grandfather. Lord Richard Randall was one of a kind, actually the last of his kind in as far as his grandson was concerned.

From the moment he had come to live in his grandparents’ household as a three-year-old, he had stared at the giant with a shock of white hair in awe.

The first time he was picked up by his grandfather and held on his lap, Anthony was terrified and had wailed, causing his grandfather to laugh heartily.

Elizabeth, this one has a nice pair of lungs in him, bring us something to appease our little grandson. A large candy bar appeased him and in curiosity he touched his grandfather’s beard.

There arose a bond between them that lasted until Anthony reached his teenage years, when things began to change. His grandfather never let him get away with any mischief so he began turning to his grandmother for solace, which she provided in good measure.

For twenty-two years, Anthony had only seen his grandfather as a huge man with a flowing white beard, robust and full of strength. Now seeing him lying in the bed, covered with numerous quilts and blankets to keep the cold out, and looking so frail was a shock to his heart.

His grandfather was dying. The great man he had looked up to for so many years was in the last days of his life and it terrified the soon-to-be twenty-five-year-old man. Not even his grandmother’s soothing voice could take away the terror of knowing that soon, he wouldn’t have a grandfather.

He had walked into his grandfather’s bedchamber with a smile on his face, and walked out with tears at the back of his eyes. The beloved man, who had done all he could to build him up into a respectable young man would soon be gone.

You, Anthony, are the next Earl of Daventry, but I am reluctant to hand the reins over to you just yet.

Grandpa, I’ll soon be twenty-five.

My point exactly. Yet what do you have to show for it apart from huge debts from your gambling? You’re a grown man but have refused to take responsibility for your life.

A coughing bout had rendered the old man speechless for a moment and it was only when his grandmother came over to the bed with a glass of water in her hand that Anthony had realized she was present.

Do you really understand what being an earl is all about? His blue eyes, though pain filled, were still piercing, and Anthony turned away. This title comes with great responsibility, not only for your grandmother and self, but to all the tenants on this vast estate. They all expect to look up to you, yet here you are.

Anthony didn’t know what to say. In a way, his grandfather’s illness was a wakeup call for him. He’d always taken it for granted that Grandpa Richard would always be there, and now faced with the reality of his mortality, he felt completely overwhelmed.

***

He heard footsteps from behind the door and knew his grandmother was coming, so he straightened his slumped shoulders just as the door opened.

Are you alright, Anthony?

Yes, Grandma.

She smiled tenderly and he felt like weeping. Now that he knew his grandfather was dying, he was also coming to the realization that one day his beloved grandmother would leave this world too.

Lady Elizabeth Randall didn’t need words to tell her that her grandson was on the brink of a breakdown. She’d shielded the boy from a lot of things from the moment he was brought to them after his parents died.

She’d wept for her only child, but her grandson had brought the sunshine back to their lives and made life bearable. Perhaps she had spoiled him too much. She held out her arms and he walked into them as before, even though he had to bend down to do so.

There now. She rubbed his back gently. Your grandfather is a strong man and still with us for a while.

He looks so frail, grandma. But there’s a lot of fight still left in those old bones. Besides, he promised that he wouldn’t go without seeing your first child, so you should start thinking seriously about that.

But sixty days, grandma?

Your twenty-fifth birthday is coming up, and isn’t it time you thought about settling down? I’m sure among the many friends and acquaintances that you have, there must be one decent young woman who would make you a good wife.

Anthony shuddered inwardly. Clearly, his grandmother didn’t know the kind of company he kept.

I hear things, Anthony. But I also know you have some of your friends who have sisters. Surely there must be someone. Your grandfather won’t wait forever, and I know that when you present a pretty little wife to him, it will give him more reason to fight his illness and stay around for a while.

You make it sound so easy, Grandma.

Indeed it is, and I know that many young women would love to be your wife, Anthony. What’s the problem?

Doesn’t love feature anywhere?

Your grandfather and I had an arranged marriage and we’ve had forty-five good years filled with love. We may not have been in love, but look at us now. The best marriages are those based on respect, understanding and compromise. Not the silly stuff you young ones keep claiming about falling in love and all. Love comes eventually, but if you can respect and like a person, then those are good enough virtues.

I hear you, Grandma. But please don’t go announcing to anyone that I have to marry within sixty days, or else you’ll have to contend with an endless parade of nagging matronly mamas and their equally irritating daughters.

Elizabeth hid a smile. More than anything in the world, she wanted