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His Three-Day Duchess
Laurie Benson
He’s claimed his titleCan he inherit a bride too?Part of The Sommersby Brides. The Duchess of Skeffington has retreated to the estate that was her refuge during her cruel marriage. She’s shocked to come face to face with a distant heir, now the new Duke, adventurous Simon Alexander. When Elizabeth is robbed it’s up to them both to find the thief. But travelling together will attract too much gossip… Unless they pose as husband and wife…!
He’s claimed his title
Could he inherit a bride, too?
Part of The Sommersby Brides: The Duchess of Skeffington retreats to the estate that was her refuge during her cruel marriage. She’s shocked to come face-to-face with the distant heir, now newly inherited duke, adventurous Simon Alexander. When Elizabeth is robbed, it’s up to them both to find the thief. But traveling together would attract too much gossip... Unless they pose as husband and wife!
LAURIE BENSON is an award-winning Regency romance author, whose book An Unexpected Countess was voted Mills & Boon’s 2017 ‘Hero of the Year’ by readers. She began her writing career as an advertising copywriter. When she isn’t at her laptop, avoiding laundry, Laurie can be found browsing antiques shops and going on long hikes with her husband and two sons. Learn more about Laurie by visiting her website at lauriebenson.net (http://www.lauriebenson.net). You can also find her on Twitter and Facebook.
Also by Laurie Benson (#u9c7d5f07-a1ec-53fa-b007-7a685039553e)
Secret Lives of the Ton miniseries
An Unsuitable Duchess
An Uncommon Duke
An Unexpected Countess
The Sommersby Brides miniseries
One Week to Wed
Convenient Christmas Brides
His Three-Day Duchess
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk).
His Three-Day Duchess
Laurie Benson
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-08870-1
HIS THREE-DAY DUCHESS
© 2019 Laurie Benson
Published in Great Britain 2019
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 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 (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
For all the girls who weren’t asked to the prom—
your best days are still to come.
Thank you to my insightful and patient editor
Linda Fildew and my team at Mills & Boon.
This book wouldn’t have been possible without the
love and support of my family. Thanks for the care and
feeding of an author under deadline! Love you, guys!
To Anabelle, Lori, Mia, Jen, Marnee, and my H crew.
Thanks for your friendship and for making me
snort with laughter at the most unexpected times,
usually looking at my phone
while I’m waiting line in a store.
And thank you to my readers. Your enthusiasm
about my books means so much.
Contents
Cover (#u83b87d03-c78b-5154-9488-85ac85792543)
Back Cover Text (#u8cf45349-3044-5e7b-9070-76f2f7b8c7e6)
About the Author (#u6cfaf108-fcf6-57a4-a8ab-dff8f90434de)
Booklist (#ub49e8852-76d6-50a6-8df6-5f8aa8f7523b)
Title Page (#u943e0d9d-fda6-5dc6-b4e8-90d1fdf60803)
Copyright (#u6946c45f-4aa8-5d62-8788-caf805e67293)
Dedication (#uafe70717-beab-563c-abe3-5e6213fa7601)
Prologue (#u7ce42287-37ea-59e0-9fd0-e1dfd4dd4bd0)
Chapter One (#ua680143f-1117-560a-be57-ce41b121a6e3)
Chapter Two (#u653f4433-8adc-5ff4-869c-6eec0d37e906)
Chapter Three (#ua9076bfe-5dfb-57bc-8c7a-69292f47a455)
Chapter Four (#u76f4152e-4e8a-53e5-a0eb-9d4ccd9ee31a)
Chapter Five (#u262f8c22-35c2-5bb4-996a-e521414da620)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
Prologue (#u9c7d5f07-a1ec-53fa-b007-7a685039553e)
London—July, 1819
As she sat across the desk from her solicitor, it was beginning to feel as if Lizzy had been waiting all her life for Mr Simon Alexander. And as the newly widowed Duchess of Skeffington, she wasn’t accustomed to waiting for anything or anyone. Her husband had died months ago and she had yet to meet Mr Alexander, her husband’s heir or, as he would be referred to now, the Duke of Skeffington. His tardiness today at the reading of her late husband’s will was doing nothing to help the annoyance she already felt towards a man she had never met.
‘I’m sure he won’t be much longer,’ Mr Nesbit said, furrowing his grey brows and glancing at his pocket watch for what must have been the fifth time since she had arrived at his office at promptly one o’clock in the afternoon.
Lizzy toyed with her emerald necklace and didn’t even try to hide her irritation. ‘At least one of us is confident in that. You’re certain he knows where we were to meet?’
‘I was very specific in my letter. He knows.’
She glanced down the table to Rimsby, the impeccably dressed old man who had served as butler of Skeffington House here in London for as long as Lizzy had been married. This was a man who valued protocol and proper behaviour, and she imagined he was just as displeased with his new employer’s tardiness as she was. Mrs Thacker, who was seated next to Rimsby, had an odd blush about her at the mention of the new Duke—a blush that in the twelve years that the woman had been her housekeeper, she had never seen brighten her normally sombre countenance.
‘Do we still have to wait for him?’ She directed her question to Lord Liverpool, the executor of her husband’s estate, who at the moment was standing by the window looking out at the busy London street. ‘We know he finally is in London after all these months. Can’t we just begin and Mr Nesbit can give him a brief summary of what he missed when he arrives?’
He stepped away from the window and turned to face her. ‘Skeffington was very insistent that the will was to be read only when everyone who benefited was present and Mr Alexander, as the new Duke, must be present.’
Beside her Mr Mix, her late husband’s secretary, shifted in his chair. The leather gave a considerable creak, which was surprising in light of his small, wiry frame. The gentleman, who was about twenty years older than Lizzy’s twenty-nine years, continued to sit silently, offering no indication on how he felt about the tardy behaviour of the new Duke. But as he had worked with her husband for all those years, she assumed he was accustomed to keeping his opinions to himself. He sat staring at his clasped hands on the table and she wondered once again why he had been content to be berated by her husband for so long. Certainly, there were other members of the House of Lords who would have welcomed his services. He could have put the Duke’s company behind him long ago, unlike Lizzy who had been forced to endure it since she was seventeen.
‘Do you know if Mr Alexander will be retaining your services, Mr Mix?’ Lizzy asked him to pass the time.
‘I do not. Since he just arrived here in London a few nights ago, we’ve not yet had the opportunity to meet.’
Now that Mr Alexander was finally in London, Mr Mix had to believe that the status of his job was precarious.
‘I know how my husband relied on you. I’m sure the new Duke will, as well.’ She tried to be reassuring when she noticed his right leg bouncing nervously under the table.
‘That’s very kind of you, Your Grace,’ he replied, giving her what appeared to be a strained smile.
He wasn’t the only one who was feeling the need to move. Lizzy wanted desperately to get up and walk about the room, but Lord Liverpool was already taking up that action. They didn’t need to bump into one another as they waited for the tardy Duke to grace them with his presence. It appeared he had settled into his new station in life already and was going to be one of those gentlemen who strove to create a grand entrance by arriving late, reminding them all that he was a duke of England and they all would have to adjust to his schedule. She had witnessed behaviour like this before. Well, she was a duchess and had held her esteemed rank longer than he had!
She was just about to request a glass of sherry to still her agitation when one of Mr Nesbit’s clerks appeared in the doorway and announced the Duke of Skeffington. Lizzy’s stomach did an uncomfortable dip. It had been six months since she’d heard someone announce that name and she had to remind herself that her odious husband was dead. Now that his successor was in London, she would have to grow accustomed to hearing that name without that familiar feeling of dread.
Turning her head, she finally came face-to-face with her late husband’s heir. The handsome gentleman standing tall in the doorway with the lean, athletic build was not what she had expected. He appeared to be only a few years older than she was and by the cut of his brown tailcoat and the state of his boots she could assume he was a man who dressed out of necessity instead of fashion—even though the cut of the coat did wonders to draw attention to his broad shoulders and the defined muscles in his arms. His dark eyes rimmed with thick dark lashes settled on Lizzy for a few additional heartbeats before he continued to survey the occupants in the room. For those extra moments that their eyes held, the room seemed to fade away.
Mr Nesbit came around the table, breaking the spell that had come over her, and shook the new Duke’s hand. ‘Your Grace, thank you for joining us. We were growing concerned that there might have been an accident.’
‘No, there was no accident. As you can see, Nesbit, I am in one piece.’
And a very fine piece he was in with that jet-black hair, a lock of which was threatening to fall into his dark eyes. But when it was apparent he had no intention of apologising for keeping them waiting, it reaffirmed Lizzy’s belief that only arrogant selfish men would hold the title of Duke of Skeffington.
‘You have been keeping us waiting for over an hour.’
