The Lady and Her Pirate Duke Read online

  The Lady and Her

  Pirate Duke

  By Jilian Rouge

  Published by Scarlet Lantern Publishing

  Table of Contents

  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

  Author's Note

  Other Titles from Jilian Rouge

  Copyright © 2020 by

  Jilian Rouge & Scarlet Lantern Publishing

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  This book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language.

  All characters in this work are 18 years of age or older.

  Other Books by Jilian Rouge

  Stand Alone Steamy Historical Romances

  Redemption for the Rakish Earl

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  Prologue

  Peverill Green, Fourteen Years Ago

  Twelve-year-old Lady Georgina Montagu, known as Georgie to those who knew her closely, startled visibly as three hoydenish boys, one of them being her older brother, raced past at high speed down the country lane. She had been walking back from her favorite spot to sketch, having finished her lessons early enough to earn her a free afternoon to indulge in her favorite pastime. She felt the wind whistle past her as they rushed by, their body heat sweeping past her one moment, then was gone. Frowning at their near-collision, she looked back in the direction from where they came, wondering at why they hadn’t stopped to greet her properly.

  Eyes sweeping down the lane, she found no one giving chase, but that didn’t mean much as the three boys were fast. Whoever may be chasing them would have had good reason to do so as the three of them together were notorious in their village for stirring up all sorts of trouble. And it was more than likely that they had been up to no good when they raced down the lane as if the dogs of hell were at their heels.

  The three boys had already disappeared past the bend in the little road meant as a cattle drive, and Georgie instinctively knew where they were headed. Determined to see what they were up to, she hurried her step to follow after them, swinging her sketch book held in the one hand.

  However, she didn’t make more than a few steps when a heavy hand settled on her shoulder and twisted her around. Eyes widening in surprise, she beheld a furious Mrs. Tuttle, the baker’s wife, who brandished a vicious-looking rolling pin in one hand. Under normal circumstances, Georgie rather liked Mrs. Tuttle as she was always kind to her in passing. It was her daughter with whom Georgie had issues. How such kind, loving parents produced such a horror of a daughter, Georgie never understood.

  “Where are they?” Mrs. Tuttle asked, the fury still evident in her voice, matching the look on her otherwise pretty face.

  Having mostly been included in some of their scrapes growing up, Georgie realized how bereft she felt at being excluded on this one. Lately, the three of them had been leaving her out of their planned pranks since she started her finishing lessons, and she decided then and there that she would do something worthy enough to be counted as one of them again. Innocently enough, she asked up at Mrs. Tuttle, “May I ask to whom you are referring?” She had her finishing lessons to thank for the imperious tone in her voice, one as befitting a lady of her station.

  Mrs. Tuttle snorted in frustration and cried, “Don’t be impertinent with me, girl! You may be the daughter of an earl, but I will not have the likes of you snubbing your nose at me!”

  Calmly and with a small bow of her head, Georgie claimed, “I apologize if I had made offense, but I cannot help you if I don’t know who it is you are looking for.”

  Looking to the heavens as if seeking for divine intervention, Mrs. Tuttle sighed heavily. “Your brother and his friends, of course! They would have come this way and you would have seen them.”

  Just as calmly and serenely, Georgie answered, “Oh, I see! Then, let me answer you truthfully.” She paused, allowing a few seconds of silence to pass between them.

  Impatient, Mrs. Tuttle craned her neck lower as if to prompt a quicker answer from Georgie. “Well? Out with it!”

  “Oh!” Georgie exclaimed, as if caught suddenly daydreaming. With her face scrunched in absolute certainty and seriousness, she replied, “Well, the truth is that I was not aware of their passing this way.” Which was the truth in a sense, as the trio had blurred past her without warning. She had only recognized them once they had reached the bend in the road.

  Mrs. Tuttle narrowed her gaze suspiciously at her, but Georgie’s serene and open expression told her nothing more would be forthcoming. Straightening, Mrs. Tuttle concluded, “If you happen upon them, tell them this: there will be hell to pay for what they did to my girl!”

  Eyes widening once more, this time at the threat obvious in Mrs. Tuttle’s voice, Georgie asked, “What did they do?”

  “They cut off my beautiful girl’s hair! They might as well have shorn her straight to the scalp!” Mrs. Tuttle cried. “When I get my hands on them, they will be sorry!”

  “I am sorry for Ruth’s sake,” Georgie replied quietly, horrified that that boys would go so far as to mar a girl’s looks, no matter how nasty the said girl was to her regularly.

  “Thank you, Lady Georgina. Remember to pass along my message to them if you see either of them,” she called over her shoulder as she turned back.

  Georgie waited until Mrs. Tuttle disappeared from sight before she resumed her original destination. She knew exactly where the boys would have hidden as they had long ago declared the spot as theirs. The old ramshackle Fitzgibbons cottage, abandoned by the original owners for a better life in the Colonies, had been overtaken by the trio as their base of operations.

  Before she could enter the door of the dilapidated cottage, all three boys crept out from behind the house and signaled her to join them by the side of the house where they would not be observed from the road.

  Ernest, careful not to be too loud, asked her, “Did she think to find us here?”

  Georgie shook her head, and said, “No, I told her I hadn’t seen you.” Then sternly, she looked each of them in the eye and demanded, “What did you do to Ruth? Mrs. Tuttle said you cut off her hair!”

  The other two boys looked sheepishly at each other, then down at her. They were the Griffiths brothers, sons of the Duke of Lyonscar, a good, close friend of their father, the Earl of Penticton. Both were sandy-haired and green-eyed like their father, and both wore expressions of gleeful satisfaction. As the elder by one year at fifteen, Lionel Griffiths stood to inherit their father’s title, and therefore, was a little more staid than his younger brother, Raphael, who was most likely the author of their latest foolhardy prank. While they were not blood, the Griffiths boys had always watched over her as closely as they would if
she were their own sister.

  Chucking her under the chin and giving her a wink, Rafe replied, “It was nothing the wench didn’t deserve. Ernest was the one who told us of what she said to you the other day, and we couldn’t let her meanness to you go unpunished.”

  These three were her heroes, even if they went to unconventional lengths to restore her honor. But even then, she couldn’t allow them to stick out their necks for her when it wasn’t necessary, and she told them so.

  Ernest protested, “But she made you feel badly about yourself after you had chosen that Sunday outfit with great care!” Ernest knew what great pains she took to convince their mother to have a new dress made to make her look more grown up.

  Rafe piped in, “She was just jealous that she couldn’t look as fine as you did, not when little Nicholas Belhaven sat up straighter when you walked past the pews in church.”

  Even Lionel chuckled, “And we all saw her reaction to that look.”

  Disbelieving and blushing, Georgie shook her head at all of them. “You can’t have seen all that in one look. And Nicholas is not little; he’s just as big as any one of you. Besides, I’m more concerned with what you did to Ruth Tuttle. How did you manage to cut her hair without her noticing?” Her motive for directing such a question had more to do with drawing the fire away from her little infatuation with the handsome Nicholas Belhaven, the only son of the Earl and Countess of Bridgingham.

  “’Twas nothing, really,” Rafe shrugged. “Since she always fancied Lionel, it was easy for Lionel to absorb her in dull conversation. And with her back towards an open window, Ernest and I managed to cut off her braids without her feeling a thing.”

  Georgie’s mind boggled at their audacity. But she was buoyed by their loyalty to her, even now that she was finally growing up and out of the nursery, growing too old for their sort of fun. However, she secretly relished the thought of her tormentor receiving her comeuppance in the form of three mischievous boys who watched over her protectively.

  If it hadn’t been for Ernest, the Griffith boys would have had no inkling of Ruth Tuttle’s mean-spirited words that were meant to cut her down. Despite her prettiness, Ruth never had a kind word for her. When they were both seven years old, she had run to her mother after a particularly stinging barb of Ruth’s, to which her mother speculated, “Perhaps she is resentful that you have what she wants: friends. You have Ernest, Lionel, and Rafe. Perhaps she doesn’t have anyone to be her friend.” Still, no effort of Georgie’s had Ruth defrosting enough to warrant a friendship between them.

  Not when she remained within the tight-knit group that was her, Ernest, Lionel, and Rafe. As children, the four of them dubbed themselves the Four Musketeers of their age and dashed about Peverill Green in search of adventure, simply finding joy in being children together. As they were among the few children of noble birth in the vicinity, the four of them relied heavily upon each other for companionship as the local gentry did not have children close to them in age. To Georgie, having these three boys behind her meant more to her than all of the pretty dresses in the world.

  But they were growing up, and Georgie feared losing this fierce closeness of theirs now that she had her sights set on the elusive Nicholas Belhaven. Since neither boy had much nice to say about Nicholas, Georgie hung back from making her feelings known to any one of them, least of all, her own brother. If she had, he probably would have blabbed to the others, and she would have to endure their incessant teasing from then on.

  Soon, the boys would be heading back to Eton for the start of term, and she would be left behind in Peverill Green until the time came for her to be sent off to finishing school. Soon, there would be no one to avenge her for Ruth Tuttle’s insults; no one to keep the loneliness at bay.

  Although she loved the Griffiths boys as ferociously as she did her own brother, she had always held a special place in her heart for Rafe. While Lionel was just as kind and attentive to her as his younger brother, it was Rafe to whom she was drawn to. Rafe, who possessed a wickedly devious mind for the best pranks and who held her admiration for his deep devotion to those he loved. And she counted herself lucky that she was one of that number.

  She only wished that they could remain young and wild forever, the four of them against the world. However, Mama had reminded her that her path and those of her bosom friends would soon diverge for the express purpose of attaining adulthood. Their roles would be different when they were older, and no amount of wishing against it would change what the world expected of them. As an earl’s daughter, she was expected to achieve respectability, becoming a model for others to emulate.

  However, Ruth Tuttle’s constant taunting reminded her how un-ideal she was in comparison to someone of Ruth’s outer shell. Georgie was no great beauty, not like Ruth was, but Mama repeatedly told her that she would come into her looks soon enough. Mama’s own younger years were much the same as hers was now, as Mama was wont to remind her. With hair so dark, dark as a raven’s wing, it was unfashionable and with awkward long limbs that she was still growing accustomed to, Georgie half-thought that Ruth was right about her scarecrow-like looks. All but her eyes, a silvery blue so clear, she couldn’t help but be vain about her unusual eyes that were so like her Mama’s and Ernest’s.

  Looking at the three boys who loved her enough to redress the slight against her, she sighed and said forlornly, “I appreciate what you’ve done for me, truly, I do. But I can’t have you doing such things in my name, not when the three of you will be leaving for Eton soon. When that time comes, Ruth will only be nastier, and I won’t have you or anyone to champion me then.”

  Rafe reached out with one arm and plopped it lazily across Georgie’s shoulders as he led her homeward with the other two following closely behind. “Not to worry, Georgie. We have it on good authority that there is someone willing to come up to snuff when it comes to the likes of Ruth Tuttle.”

  Puzzled, Georgie stopped mid-step and looked up at Rafe with brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

  But it was Ernest who answered, “We asked Nicholas Belhaven to keep an eye on you while we are gone. He still has a year left before he joins us at Eton, but by that time, you will have already been shipped off to finishing school.”

  At the mention of Nicholas’ name, Georgie dislodged from Rafe’s one-armed embrace and rushed at her brother to envelop him in a crushing hug. Her heart swelled greatly at the thoughtfulness the three of them displayed for her, and she was elated that they thought of the very boy she admired.

  Lionel chuckled from behind Ernest and said, “We can’t have our favorite girl be left to her own devices without us here to temper her. You would probably set the whole town on fire like you almost did with the vicar’s shed.”

  “That was an accident, and you know it!” she cried, bristling at the teasing accusation. The four of them had been playing at hide-and-seek close to the town proper on a Sunday evening while their parents were visiting with the vicar. “It’s all your fault for leaving me in there without a light. How was I to know that the flint would spark the rest of the shed like so much kindling!”

  At the reminder of their shared hijinks, the three of them laughed while Rafe drew close to envelop her in a brotherly embrace. “We will miss you, firecracker,” Rafe said, still chuckling. “Don’t ever change, not even a bit.”

  Closing her eyes against the tears that sprung suddenly, reminding her of their impending separation, Georgie quietly said, “And I will miss all of you.”

  Theirs was a somber group that headed in the direction of both of their homes that bordered on each other’s estates. As hopeful as they were that their friendship would stand strong against a temporary separation, only Georgie harbored doubts that things would remain the same once they were grown and ready to assume their roles as one of the nobility.

  1

  Peverill Green, St. Matthew’s Church Cemetery, 1831

  If only they hadn’t tried to rush home through that awful thunderstorm, th
ought Georgie sadly. She looked about the small crowd gathered to lay to rest not one, but two Griffiths men. Both Lord Harrison Griffiths, the tenth duke of Lyonscar, and his heir, Lionel, had not survived the terrible carriage accident that saw them fallen over the edge of a cliff, and there was none left of their family to mourn them.

  At the age of twenty-nine, Lionel had shown promise as his father’s heir, and he was more than ready to step into the role that was his father’s. But now, the light that was Lionel was quickly snuffed out, and all due to a broken carriage axle that had both father and son plummeting to their deaths. It was so sad that only a handful of people who knew the Griffiths well had come to say their farewells. As close friends of the Griffiths, Georgie and her family were also present as she was flanked by her mother and father on one side of her, her brother on the other. There were no surviving relatives of the Griffiths left to come pay their respects.

  Save but Rafe. But he was nowhere to be found, nor did anyone know his latest direction to inform him of recent events. Georgie bitterly thought, That blasted man should have been here! How dare he stay away for so long that he can’t be bothered to attend their funerals!