A Duke Trapped in Desire: A Historical Regency Romance Novel Read online

  A DUKE TRAPPED IN DESIRE

  A STEAMY HISTORICAL REGENCY ROMANCE NOVEL

  SALLY VIXEN

  CONTENTS

  Before You Start Reading…

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Epilogue

  Extended Epilogue

  Preview: The Duke of Vengeance

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Also by Sally Vixen

  About the Author

  BEFORE YOU START READING…

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  ABOUT THE BOOK

  “Rule number two, I shall not bed you.”

  To escape a marriage to a horrendous man, Marina does the unthinkable: she tries to compromise herself on purpose with a kind Earl. However, to her horror, the one that walks into the Earl’s bedroom is not the Earl, but his rakish brother…

  Proud owner of a gaming establishment, Duke James crawled his way out of debt into an immense amount of wealth, and he has been living by his own set of rules since. He never drinks, nor gambles. And more importantly, he never falls in love. He was fully prepared to let his brother continue the family line, when he is found in a bedroom with a seductive vixen..

  If there is anything James hates in this world, it’s losing control. And that’s exactly what happens when the two are forced into a marriage of convenience. But the war of wills between them has just started, and neither of them will go down without a fight..

  PROLOGUE

  London, England

  “I’m late. I’m never late.” James sighed as he descended the stairs, moving from his lodgings to the gambling hall he owned. This late, the candles were glistening brightly. He knew if he passed through one vast door, he’d walk straight into the gambling rooms.

  On one side, he’d see the hungry men, greedy for money as they leaned over the tables. Like dogs at their feeding bowls, ravenous, the men tried to grab the money, offering feeble cards and bets to try to win from him.

  James smiled slightly as he looked at that door, adjusting his tailcoat before he turned his back on it.

  Not tonight. Tonight, I have somewhere else to be.

  He was choosing to be late. An invitation from his younger brother to a ball was so rare that, ordinarily, he never would have chosen to be late, but tonight, it was necessary. One of his gambling customers had not just asked to see him, but it had become imperative.

  Making his way across the hall, he turned to another door, this one much smaller than the last and placed between two marble busts, bearing the faces of eighteenth-century philosophers. James opened the door, stepping into the room. The candles were lit here too, with some placed in sconces on the walls, creating the appearance of stars following him down the corridor as he walked.

  Eventually, he heard voices. They came from an open doorway at the far end of the corridor through which he could see a friend of his pacing. Michael Hawkins, known by many as the Viscount Thorne, was clearly losing his patience. With a hand rubbing his temple and his pacing relentless, their guest had to be pushing the Viscount’s limits.

  James held himself back for a minute, hovering in the doorway and watching the meeting that was taking place.

  As Michael paced, their guest, Mr. Jeremy Waters, was sitting in a chair, visibly shaking. His fingers trembled so much, it was as if he’d suffered some sort of shock.

  “You cannot expect me to pay, My Lord,” Mr. Waters was saying repeatedly to Michael, his voice squeaky with desperation. “I have given everything I have to this establishment.”

  “Ha! You make it sound as if you were a benefactor rather than a gambler.” Michael’s words made James smile as he hovered by the open door. “You are in great debt to this gambling hall, and neither I nor the proprietor can continue to maintain your debt. You know the rules, Mr. Waters; you must pay your debt.”

  Mr. Waters shook his head and bent forward as if he had been punched in the gut by those words.

  “Oh, oh, I do not feel well,” he wailed then placed a hand to his chest. “I believe I am having heart trouble, palpitations. Oh no!”

  “A fine actor you are, sir, but I need to point out that your heart is placed in your left-hand side of your chest not your right.” Michael calmly stopped walking and pointed at Mr. Waters’ chest, showing he was clutching at the wrong part of his torso. Mr. Waters moved his hand to the correct side, but it was too late. His attempt to garner sympathy and possibly an escape from this meeting had failed.

  No control, that was the man’s problem.

  James kept the thought to himself as he watched through the open door, seeing the orange light from the candles flicker so much that the light and shadows danced across Mr. Waters’ face. He’d seen such weaknesses many times since he’d opened the gambling hall. No man had good control of himself, at least none as good as him.

  My rules are simple and should be any man’s rules. No liquor, no gambling, and nothing that can threaten my discipline.

  He’d adopted these rules long ago, and they had served him well. After his father had passed, and the dukedom faced ruin, James had opened the gambling hall with Michael coming in to work for him. Through his discipline and hard graft, James had seen the business grow to the resounding success it was today.

  The dukedom was profitable once again, and he’d never need to fear losing money, or dread a debtor’s prison, but it had come at a price. Many suspected what good there could be in a man who owned a gambling hall. His reputation had been torn into tatters by the scandal sheets, and his younger brother barely spoke to him, fearing what association could do between them.

  Despite the damage, James would not change things. He was content, happy as he was, and that was all down to one thing.

  I keep to my rules.

  “I beg of you, sir, I must see a doctor,” Mr. Waters pleaded with Michael again.

  “You’re no sicker than I am. Your only sickness is of your wallet, not your body.” Michael gestured to the man, watching as Mr. Waters’ hands lowered from his chest.

  James had had enough and pushed the ajar door wide open, revealing his presence. At once, silence fell in the room. Michael turned to face him with a small smile, revealing grey eyes that looked tired and a mop of dark blond hair that was tangled, for he had pulled at it in stress many times.

  Mr. Waters said nothing, yet he audibly gulped as he looked toward James. Slowly, James stepped into the room, aware of the power that had shifted toward him at that moment. It always seemed to be the same. Either men feared him or his influence, for they frequently fell quiet in his presence, and they became obedient like young, newly weaned pups.

  “Mr. Waters,” James’ voice was deep as he approached and stood in front of the gambling man. “I’ve had enough of listening to your quarrels with my manager, and I’ve equally tired of the credit we have given you in this establishment.”

  “I will pay, Your Grace, I will!” the man said desperately, leaning out of his chair. He looked ready to stand and paw at James’ tailcoat with his hands outstretched. One hard glare from James’ dark blue eyes was enough to keep the man in place.

  “What money do you have to your name now? Hmm?” James asked. His voice was quiet, but the depth was enough to make the man’s trembling worse. It was a rare thing indeed for James to need to shout.

  “A little.” The man gulped again. “I regret to say… I cannot pay at this time.”

  “How much does he owe?” James turned his focus on Michael. His friend reached for a table nearby and opened up some papers, revealing a total sum that he passed to James. “God’s wounds,” he muttered. “I pray you do not have a family, sirrah. I’d hate to hear of a family dependent on your poor fortunes now.”

  “I do have a family, Your Grace,” the man said meekly. “Two young-uns and one that’s old enough to be taken from school.”

  James cursed under his breath. He could see Michael was equally aggrieved at this news, shaking his head and muttering under his breath.

  It would not be the first time James had demanded money from his customers. Frequently, some of them needed a helpful reminder that his business wasn’t a charity. It was their own doing if they got themselves into such trouble that they couldn’t pay him back. Merely the year before, James had seen one customer go to debtors’ prison, not only incapable of paying James but his other creditors too. That man was alone though, unmarried, and without a family depending on him.

  James thought back to the moments when he was at university, learnin
g as much as he could. He’d been absorbed in his studies the day a letter had arrived from his father, telling him of the dire circumstances the dukedom was in. That was many years ago, but he hadn’t forgotten that night. The world had come crashing down around him in that moment, and life had been different ever since.

  I’d hate for that to happen to this man’s children.

  “I cannot let any customer of mine not pay, sir.” James lowered the papers to the table and slowly turned back. “Equally, I have no wish to bankrupt a man and his family. So, I will propose a deal for you. A payment plan. You will pay the gambling hall back your debt but in instalments. I hope you have a fair job, sirrah, for you will need it. In the interim, you are banned from the gambling hall.”

  “Banned? But I could win my money back. One good hand, that’s all I need, Your Grace!” Mr. Waters’ desperation made James’ lip curl in disgust as he exchanged an uneasy glance with Michael.

  “Gamblers always think the same. The luck of the next hand will save them, they think. Take my advice, we make our own luck in this world; we don’t win it.” The latter words were harsh enough to urge Mr. Waters to flinch in his seat. “Come, to your feet. I’ll show you to our clerk where your payment plan can be drawn up.”

  James and Michael led him to an adjoining room where they left him with the clerk preparing the paperwork. Once done, James and Michael left with them both hurrying to the carriage that awaited them in the streets of Covent Garden. Darkness had fallen, and the only light spilled out of the gambling hall windows and from the one lantern the driver of the carriage carried.

  “Do you think he’ll pay?” Michael asked as they climbed into the carriage, and James hastily lit the lantern that swung from the roof of the carriage.

  “He will, given time; he must. Or in the end, we’ll have to report him.”

  “Ruthless, James.”

  “It’s necessary.” His voice was calm as he sat back and looked at his friend’s face. “If we’re too charitable to one customer, what’s to stop us being too lenient with them all? I won’t let us fall into bad ways.”

  “So disciplined,” Michael laughed. “You remind me of one of my old school masters. We were never allowed a word out of turn. It’s a wonder I like you.”

  “Ha! I am not so bad.” Though James knew the truth… his discipline sometimes came across as callousness. Michael was his closest friend, and for all the teasing, they would never abandon one another. They both knew what it was like to suffer at the hands of a father with financial trouble. “I have my rules, that is all. No liquor, no gambling, nothing that could risk me.”

  “You have one weakness though,” Michael said as the carriage moved away, jerking with rickety wheels over the cobbles in the road. “Women.”

  “Women? Hardly.” James laughed deeply at the idea, knowing exactly what Michael was referring to. His reputation as a rake seemed to be growing, not out of intention, but it was a natural thing. The ladies he’d been with had always known his offer – a night of passion, nothing more. “They are not my weakness. I am as disciplined in that regard as I am in any other.”

  “Truly?” Michael chuckled at the idea. “You do not allow yourself a glass of port, but you allow yourself women? You must admit, your discipline faulty in that regard.”

  “Indeed, it does not.” James shook his head. “Allow me to explain, my friend. I do not have a rule of no women, no. My rules are different. No love, that is simple. No affection, no courtship, no marriage, nothing of that kind. That is my discipline, and it has served me well.”

  “No love, eh?” Michael seemed intrigued by the idea, his smile growing. “I wonder if it really is possible to discipline one’s heart the way one can control a drinking or gambling habit.”

  “It’s possible. Believe me.”

  CHAPTER 1

  “Do you know what I’m thinking?”

  “Quite frankly, Lord Rutherford, I shudder to think.” Marina’s words didn’t appear to affect Baron Rutherford at all. She might as well not have spoken for all the good it did. He leaned toward her, quite ignoring the fact they were at Lord Frampton’s ball with many witnesses to watch them together, and he whispered in her ear.

  “I am thinking of what our first night will be like together when we are married, Marina.” The suggestion made her blood boil.

  Turning her back on the Baron, she reached for the nearest drinks table, clutching to the edge of the table to keep herself standing. It was stacked high with crystal glasses and champagne bottles that never quite seemed to be full, for people were so eager to drink. Marina barely noticed the fine decorations. She ignored the napkins that had been shaped into swans and the myriad of candles thrust into ornate crystal holders. She reached for a tall glass of champagne and drank it quickly.

  If I am to go through with my plan tonight, I will need all the courage I can summon.

  Yet Baron Rutherford followed her, stepping so close that his arm brushed her waist, and she jumped away from him.

  “Pray, Lord Rutherford, do not come so close,” she begged of him in a whisper.

  “Why should I stay away? We are betrothed, are we not?” he said luridly with his eyes drifting down her person. She felt sick at the mere thought and nearly gagged on a swallow of champagne.

  It was her greatest disappointment that her father had agreed to the match. She’d had no say in the matter. No matter how many times she had pointed out that Baron Rutherford was a cruel man with little kindness in him, it did nothing to dissuade her father. Her mother had looked on with sympathetic eyes throughout her protests, but being of a meeker nature, her mother hadn’t argued the case.

  What I would do to be away from this man!

  Marina turned her eyes on the Baron, looking at the greasy black hair he now brushed back across his temple, apparently thinking it fine and well kept. He was short and may have even been shorter than her had the heels of his boots not given him a little lift. His dandy ways meant his clothes were more effusive than her own with a waistcoat so embroidered with flowers and perfume to match that her nose wrinkled at the strong scent of lily and bergamot.

  He leaned toward her once more, his lace cuffs tickling her wrist as he tried to take her hand.

  “I know ladies can sometimes be nervous about their first night,” he tried to whisper in her ear again, but she leaned away from him. The grasp he had on her hand meant she couldn’t get far. “Allow me to assure you, the night will be quite something.”

  “You forget I have not agreed to that night,” Marina whispered in fear though once more, her words didn’t matter.

  “That is a lady’s natural reluctance, demureness.”