Dreaming 0f A Duke: Novella (The 12 Dukes 0f Christmas Book 3) Read online

  Dreaming of a Duke

  A Christmas Novella

  by Annabelle Felix

  One.

  The room buzzed with energy, not just from the girls, but from — Estella Wentworth was absolutely sure — the raw, mystical power. Her and her dear friends, Belle, Helene, and Eve, had all decided on a whim that they were going to get their fortunes told.

  The small room was robbed in fabrics of forein countries: Persian rugs and Turkish tapestries, French silks and Russian furs, giving it a very cozy but mysterious air. The incense that burned was already getting to their senses, making them feel loopy and excited.

  “Who wants to go first?” Estella asked her friends, though excited, sudden a little nervous.

  The girls looked about, politely implying that they could wait their turn whilst the others went, but eager all the same.

  “You go first, Stella,” little Eve said. She was the youngest of them, only a girl of seventeen, but more spunky than the whole lot.

  Estella blushed. “No, I think Belle should go first.”

  Belle stammered, looking at the young maid girl who was to show them to the medium, already looking impatient for the girls to make up their minds.

  “I’ll go,” Helene volunteered. “Lord knows there is nothing exciting to be foretold in my life…”

  The girls all looked at her in sympathy. Though Helene was young and had married into a love match, recently, her marriage had been having some troubles. The young Duchess had everything to live for (according to society) but Estella knew that deep down she was struggling with insecurities in her marriage — the passion slowly fizzled from the time of their matrimony, and how she was doubting her own attraction to her husband.

  Belle, Estella, and Eve all waited their turns patiently and quietly. There was something about the subdued tones of the room that demanded their silence and respect for those on the supernatural side.

  What will my fortune be? Estella wondered.

  The idea of getting their fortunes told had been suggested in good humor, but now that they were in the fortune teller’s home, she almost felt like some part of this was real. She’d never been a silly or fantastical girl, but even she could almost believe that it was the truth.

  A few minutes later, Helene exited the room, a bright flush to her cheeks. She didn’t say anything as she took her seat, looking about the other girls.

  “What?” she stammered, barely containing a smile.

  “Well, what was your fortune?” Eve asked eagerly.

  “I can’t tell you or it won’t come true.” She avoided their gazes by rummaging through her small purse.

  “That’s only the case with birthdays,” muttered Belle. “I think you can tell us and it will be fine—”

  “Next, please.” The young maid opened the door back up and Estella inclined her gaze to the room beyond, glowing with anticipation.

  “Well?” Estella looked around. “Who wants to go next?”

  “You go, Stella,” Belle encouraged. “It wasn’t that long of a wait with Helene, we can be patient… Right Evie?”

  Eve looked on the point of jumping out of her seat and taking Estella’s place, but she sat on her hands, forcing herself to remain. Estella laughed and followed the maid into the room where the medium sat, already a couple degrees warmer than the room she had just come from.

  Estella sat down and discreetly moved her hand to her collar, unbuttoning her blouse. She didn’t want to appear rude by fanning herself, focusing her attention on the not so old woman in front of her.

  I always thought fortune tellers were old women… She mused, smiling at herself.

  “My name is Caroline,” the woman said, taking Estella’s hand. “Silver, please.”

  Estella crossed the young woman’s hand with silver as was tradition, and the coin was whisked away, as if by magic.

  “You are looking for love this season.” She held her grip on Estella’s hand, looking at the lines on her palms. “You’ve been looking for love for many seasons…”

  Estella swallowed — the woman was right, sort of. This was going to be her second season out, and she hadn’t even been courted last year. She supposed it was just the Wentworth luck; her oldest sister, Ginny, had almost been an old maid when she was at last proposed to, and her other sister Ivy had her own share of love’s troubles. She had been hoping to at least gain the attention of someone, no matter the rank, but she hadn’t had luck yet.

  “It will change this year.” Caroline’s eyes sparkled, and Estella’s heart leapt with the news. “As sure as the supernatural tells me, I tell you that you will marry a duke.”

  “A duke!” exclaimed Estella. She quickly thought to the potential men who would fit this fortune, but she couldn’t think of any other dukes in her life, besides the Duke of St. Beau, Ivy’s husband.

  Caroline leaned back in her seat, appearing content and sure of her reading. Estella knew that this was all fun and games, but she wanted to believe the young woman with all her heart… could there really be a duke in her future?

  “May I ask one question?” she said slowly, considering.

  “Of course,” Caroline said. “What troubles you? For I can tell it is a trouble by reading the consternation on your face… I need no higher powers to see that.”

  Estella bit her lip. “Will it be a love match?”

  When Carolina’s face became clouded with thinking, Estella thought the worst. No matter if her husband was a duke if it wasn’t a love match — when it came to love, Estella knew not to sacrifice love for a title. If she found her love match with a farmer, than she would marry a farmer. Wealth and and a title would always be a plus, but Estella would fight fate with everything in her if it wasn’t a love match.

  “Yes,” Caroline said. “Yes it will be a love match.”

  Estella’s heart lightened with the news — a love match! Thanking the woman, she found her friends in the waiting room, filled with giddy joy.

  “Oh what is it?” Eve said, impatiently.

  She smiled mischievously, her whole body glowing with the exciting news. “You shall never guess, not in a million years.”

  “You’re right, we shan’t,” Belle replied, always the practical one of them.

  “No don’t guess,” Estella amended. “For I am too excited to tell you — here it is. As sure as the friendship between us, I am to marry a duke!”

  “A duke?” the girls cried in disbelief.

  Two.

  The ballroom was thrumming with energy as the girls made their way down the grand staircase and into the party below. Estella had never been nervous for a party before, but she knew that any day now she was going to chance upon her very own duke, and what better place than that of a Christmas party?

  Unfortunately, it wasn’t a party planned by her mother, so she didn’t have access to the guest list, however, she’d already done a little bit of asking around. She’d tipped off her personal maid to gather information, and it seemed that Berthilda was more than good at her job — and not just good at doing her hair.

  “They’ll be three dukes here tonight, Miss,” Berthilda had said. “All daringly handsome, if I do say so myself. I do know you know one of them, the Duke of Chelsney, Miss. I’m sure you remember him.”

  Estella did remember the Duke of Chelsney, known to her as her dear friend Henry. Though they’d practically grown up together — Henry being her older brother’s best friend — she hadn’t seen him in ages. Estella was sure Henry wasn’t her duke, though. How could he be?

  “I’ve spotted both the Duke of Merden
and the Duke of Sotton,” Eve said, coming up behind Estella. Estella had already told her friends about Berthilda’s news. “The Duke of Merden is a certain Viktor Cromley, and very handsome if I do say so myself — just your type. Though the Duke of Sotton, Emile St. Valentine is also good looking.”

  “Thanks Evie,” Estella whispered, looking over at her friend. “And what about your duke? Is he here for once?”

  It may have just been Estella’s imagination, but she could have sworn that Eve’s cheeks went pink as she stammered, “You know he’s never here, why would he be here tonight?”

  It was a delicate topic, that of Eve’s guardianship. Not knowing her mother or father, or even her origins, she had grown up in the guardianship of the Duke of Aubrey, a mysterious man whom she saw very rarely. As distant as their relationship was, Estella knew that he meant something to Eve, however small. Why Eve was blushing under the mention of his name was certainly interesting to Estella, but she had other pursuits — finding her duke.

  The sound of bows across strings permeated the air, signaling that the dancing was about to begin. The girls shuffled around as best they could in the crowd, seeking out partners — no one wanted to be standing the first dance to the side.

  Estella hid her delight as two men walked up to her — one, her older brother, and the other a handsome young man with the most sweet blonde hair. Estella knew before they spoke that her older brother was coming to make introductions on the other man’s behalf.

  “Dear sister,” her brother said. “May I introduce to you my new acquaintance, the Duke of Sotton.”

  She curtseyed politely, and held out her hand. He pressed a modest kiss to her gloved hand, before asking her to dance. She agreed readily, though perhaps too excited, knowing that he may be her duke.

  As the Duke of Sutton led her to the dance floor, Estella caught the eyes of another man — dark and handsome, just her type. He wore a bold red jacket, setting him apart from the other men in dreary black, his black curls perfectly tailored to his head. Estella’s heart skipped a beat when he winked at her, and she decided that he must be the Duke of Merden, or Viktor Cromley.

  The first dance passed quickly, the Duke being a perfect partner. He danced and spoke well, and never was a moment awkwardly or idly spent, but still, Estella couldn’t help but think of the other man whom she perhaps had a chance with — if the young Caroline was to be believed.

  Estella was hardly out of the Duke’s arms when her attention was drawn to a voice behind her.

  “You are the most stunning woman I have ever seen,” the voice was accented lightly, something Russian, different. “If you do not mind me being so bold.”

  Estella blushed as she turned, taking in the handsome rogue whom she had seen before. He was even better looking close up, and her heart quickly sped up in her chest, her stomach taking off in a flight of butterflies. He offered a hand and she took it, entranced by his seduction already. He spun her onto the dance floor, pulling her body nearly flesh against his.

  “Such grace,” he complimented again.

  Flustered by his attentions, she didn’t know how to reply. She knew that their situation was wrong, socially — she was acting intimately with a man whom she didn’t know, without any introductions from her family or acquaintances. Everything was wrong, but Estella loved it.

  “You are very generous, Your Grace,” she managed at last.

  “Your Grace?” He laughed. “And what makes you think I am a duke?”

  Estella blushed, embarrassed by her blunder. He was right… how did she know that he was a duke? He could be anyone—

  “I just supposed by your looks that you had the air of a duke, my apologies.”

  He smiled. “You did not judge wrong, for I am a duke. But you must not call me your grace, please, call me Viktor.”

  “All right… Viktor.”

  His hold tightened with the sound, spinning her and dipping her. Estella was absolutely entranced by the man — compared to the Duke of Sotton, she knew that this was her duke. Everything about him was all she could have ever wanted: good looks, charm, excellent dancing skills.

  When the dance ended, he glided them off the dance floor. “You must allow me to ask for another dance before the evening is over,” he said, stepping into a more secluded area with less people.

  “Of course,” she agreed. How could she say no?

  The duke smiled and took her hand again, his kiss more bold and lingering than before. Her entire body felt like it was about to burst with anticipation and joy as he looked at her one last time before diving back into the crowd.

  “Estella, we need to talk,” came a deep voice from the shadows.

  Estella jumped at the sound, her heart racing. She was about to flee the mysterious voice when a man stepped out of the shadows, setting her at ease.

  It had been years since Estella had seen Henry Darcy, but she knew it was him instantly. Everything about him was familiar, from the way his coat was always impeccable smooth, his cravat tied perfectly; the little baby curl that never seemed to want to stay down in his soft brown hair. His blue eyes.

  Those blue eyes made a funny feeling drop to Estella’s stomach, one she didn’t understand. It was a mix of dread and happiness to see him, a confusion that made her breath shallow suddenly, her face hot.

  She realized in the small beat of silence between his words that while this was the Henry she’d always known, he wasn’t the same. In the years since she had seen him, they’d both changed — as much as she’d grown into a woman, he’d somehow managed to become more manly than before. His shoulders were broader, the lines on his face different. He seemed to have lost weight and yet bulked up in frame and stature.

  He was frowning, as if not pleased to see her. “Well, would you like to talk here or somewhere else?”

  It was Estella’s turn to frown. “Not even a hello?” she asked. The funny feeling continued to blossom as he took a step closer to her. The hallway suddenly felt too small, too tight.

  He was tall — taller than she had remembered. She looked down at his polished boots, tips coming to the tips of his knees, brushing his toned thighs.

  Her eyes snapped back to his. She should not be thinking about Henry’s thighs.

  “Fine, we can do it here,” he continued. “You will not continue with that man.”

  “What?” she exclaimed.

  “I will not let you.” He moved as if to guide her somewhere else, somewhere more suited for this conversation, but she brushed him aside. “Viktor Cromley is a rake and a rogue hell bent on ruining women. I will not let you put yourself or your reputation in danger by associating with him.”

  Estella finally regained her composer enough to talk, but her words were hateful. “We haven’t seen each other in years and you suddenly decide you want to control my life?”

  His eyes darkened. “I’m protecting you.”

  “Well I don’t want you protection!” She tossed her arms in the air. “I may be a young woman but I am smart enough to make my own choices.”

  “I do not doubt that,” he said, exasperated. “In fact, I fully support your independence, but I will not support you going anywhere near that man.”

  Estella frowned. “You may be like a brother to me, but I will not stand for you bossing me around!”

  Somehow, the words seemed to hit the right mark — though the confused pain that crossed Henry’s face made Estella instantly regret the words. He took a few steps back and clamped his mouth shut, and Estella knew that she couldn’t go back now, couldn’t show her weakness.

  “Good night, Your Grace,” she fumed and lifted up her skirts, leaving him behind in the shadows.

  Three.

  Estella caught Viktor’s eyes the second he entered the room, her heart fluttering to life. He didn’t make any attempts at hiding his attraction or pursuit, keeping his gaze entirely on her as he strutted across the room, joining them by the fireplace.

  “Your Grace,” Helene s
aid, smiling. She offered him a seat at the blanket. “You are good for joining us this afternoon.”

  Indeed, ever since the ball three weeks ago, Estella was hardly away from Viktor’s company. All though he hadn’t made any… mentions of an actual courtship, her and her friends were sure that it was going to happen any day now — maybe even today, she hoped.

  A small party of her close friends and acquaintances were gathered around the fireplace for a lovely indoor winter picnic, as assembled by Helene. As always, her husband was absent, but that meant for more fun between the gossiping ladies and their friends; Helene was nothing short of a fantastic host, and the picnic was a perfect way to wipe away the seasonal blues that were slowly creeping up on them.

  “No sign of His Grace?” Viktor asked, sitting next to Estella.

  The girls cringed, knowing that Helene’s husband was a sore spot for her, but Helene held her dignity well. “Unfortunately he’s away on business, tea?” She held up the pot.

  “As always,” Eve muttered into her cup, and Estella shoved her foot into her ankle subtly.

  “I think I shall actually go for a little brandy.” Viktor smiled, always charming in everything he did. He reached for the decanter and poured a liberal glass into his tea cup. “I find this to be more of my style. Estella?”

  He offered her the decanter, and she blushed. “Oh no, I don’t drink… Well, not at this time.”

  “Please, I insist.” His tone had so much good nature in it, Estella could hardly say no as he poured some into his own teacup and raised it to her lips, watching her over the rim.

  Just as Estella was about to sip, the drawing room door slammed open, followed by a frowning Henry — his gaze instantly met hers across the room. Estella quickly backed away from the cup and put a respectful distance between her and Viktor, pulling her skirts away from his legs that were practically against her bare skin.

  Henry walked over, his grey eyes reflecting a deep ocean storm. He didn’t seem pleased by their fun, and Estella instantly resented him for it. Henry had always been way too serious for his own good, never able to enjoy people having a good time without despising their festivities.