Gypsy Legacy: The Duke: Book 2 in the Gypsy Legacy Series Read online

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  Samhain Publishing, Ltd.

  577 Mulberry Street, Suite 1520

  Macon GA 31201

  Gypsy Legacy: The Duke

  Copyright © 2008 by Denise Patrick

  ISBN: 978-1-60504-182-7

  Edited by Lindsey McGurk

  Cover by Natalie Winters

  All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: August 2008

  www.samhainpublishing.com

  Gypsy Legacy: The Duke

  Denise Patrick

  Dedication

  For Tina, Amy and MaryAnn. You gals are the best. Without your comments this book might still be sitting on my computer where no one except myself might have ever read it.

  To my children, Chelsea and Chuck, who survived the neglect and flourished without, or maybe in spite of, me. And, lastly, to my wonderful husband, Gary, who puts up with me and my obsession.

  I love you all.

  Prologue

  June 1861

  Thane Park, Devon

  The interior of the gypsy vardo was dim—the aroma of herbs and wildflowers hung in the air. Sixteen-year-old Felicia Collings hesitated, allowing her vision to adjust, while taking in the familiar surroundings—the bench covered with a bright multi-colored cloth, the shelves crowded with gaily colored jars filled with potions and herbs, the small chest at the front, its intricately carved surface depicting a variety of animals and birds and the small open window allowing in the cool morning air. Nona, her great-grandmother, occupied the small bunk, propped up against a mound of brightly colored pillows.

  Despite her age of eighty-plus years, three years ago Nona had still been a vibrant and commanding force among her small band of gypsies. All the same, time seemed to have caught up with her, reducing her to little more than a very old woman with thinning, snow white hair. The lines in her face were etched deeply, but her dark eyes, sunk deep into their sockets, were still sharp and alert, and her voice was strong as she beckoned Felicia forward.

  “Come and sit, little one.”

  Heartened by the strength of her voice, Felicia sat on the low stool beside the bed. Next to Nona, on the faded blue coverlet, sat a small open chest.

  “I do not have much time and I tire easily these days, but I have something for you,” the gentle voice reached her.

  “You should be resting and saving your strength. Should we summon a doctor for you?”

  A ghost of a smile lightened Nona’s features for a moment. “No, child. A doctor cannot cure age. But let’s not speak of that. How are you faring, now that your brother has returned?”

  “Tina did not tell you?”

  The smile surfaced again momentarily. “I did not ask her. She would not have been an unbiased source.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he is her destiny.” Nona held up her hand as Felicia began to smile broadly. “But you are to say nothing. This is something she must discover on her own.”

  “Spoilsport.” Felicia pouted good-naturedly. “Very well, no mention will cross my lips.”

  “Good.” Nona’s approval warmed her. “Now, I have something special for you.”

  Felicia watched as Nona lifted the small box and rummaged through it, coming up with a ring on a chain, then handing it to Felicia. “It is yours.”

  “Mine?” Felicia examined the ring. It was a slim gold band with an alternating pattern of sapphires and amethysts across the top. She slipped the ring off the chain and tried it on her ring finger. “It’s too big,” she complained.

  Nona nodded, as if expecting it to be. “For now. But, someday it will fit. Until then, you will wear it with the chain.”

  “Someday?”

  “Yes. Someday you will meet the one who can tell you the history of this ring. He is your destiny. You must not wed any other.”

  Shock kept Felicia still. “But how am I supposed to know him?”

  “Your eyes will know.”

  “I will not even make my debut for another year and a half, and now you tell me I must wait for someone who will recognize this ring. I have already told my brother I want a duke.”

  Nona’s smile brought a twinkle to her eyes. “And you shall have one. But you will need patience and it will be rewarded with sun-ripened wheat and highland heather.”

  Felicia shook her head, unwilling to tell Nona she’d only been jesting. Her great-grandmother often spoke in riddles when she gave advice. Why didn’t she just come out and tell her what she wanted to know?

  She sighed. “Very well, but I will come back and ask next year. Then you will have to tell me more.”

  Nona raised sorrow-filled eyes to hers. “I wish that I could, but it is not to be. I have given you this now, because I will not be here when you will need it.”

  Felicia was suddenly aware of the unhealthy pallor in Nona’s wrinkled face and the thinness of her hands and arms.

  “Death comes to us all,” Nona said in understanding. “But it is not unwelcome. You will be happy and content. It is all that I would have wished for you.”

  “But, Nona…” Felicia’s voice clogged with tears.

  Nona sighed. “All will be well, although we will not meet again. You must be strong for others will depend on you. Now, I must rest. Do not forget what I have told you.”

  Felicia nodded, holding back the tears. Leaning over, she kissed the crinkled, paper-thin skin of Nona’s cheek.

  “I won’t.” She slipped the ring and chain into the pocket of her riding costume. “I love you, Nona.”

  “I know, little one. I love you too.”

  Chapter One

  April 1864

  London

  “I’m sorry, my lord, but my answer is still no.”

  A light breeze moved across the terrace, disturbing the ebony curls resting against Lady Felicia Collings’s temples. The cool night air, however, was not the reason she felt a small shiver go through her. No, that was caused by the intense, almost desperate look in Lord Caverdown’s eyes as she turned down his third proposal of marriage.

  “Why?” His voice was low, but the demand was obvious.

  “Because I do not feel we would suit.” She edged slightly away from him, toward the ballroom door.

  “You should not dismiss me so cavalierly.”

  “I am not. I thought I made myself perfectly clear on the two previous occasions. Asking again will not change my mind.” She half-turned toward the door. “I would like to return to the ballroom.”

  He said nothing, but merely continued to stare at her with a look she could only describe as distaste. She shivered lightly again. If he disliked her, why did he want to marry her?

  The answer didn’t matter, since she did not want to marry him, but she wondered at his tenacity nevertheless.

  “Lord Edward is not likely to come up to scratch.” His voice had a hard edge to it.

  She faced Lord Caverdown again, exasperated. “I do not expect him to.”

  Disbelief was clearly written on his face. r />
  “Everyone knows Lord Edward has only one ambition. A wife would only hamper him,” she said.

  “Ahh, but Parliament no longer allows the purchasing of commissions.”

  “That, my lord, is none of my concern, as I have no intention of marrying him.”

  “You will regret this.”

  Frustration welled up inside her. Why was it men reverted to spoiled little boys when something didn’t go their way? She had nothing against Lord Caverdown. She just didn’t want to marry him.

  “Will you escort me back, or shall I return alone?”

  The intensity in his golden eyes cleared and a moment later he gave her a short bow and offered his arm.

  “I apologize if I have offended. I will trouble you no more on the subject.”

  Felicia couldn’t believe he had become a different person right before her eyes. Gone was the rejected suitor who had nearly threatened her. In his place stood the handsome and charming dance partner she had accompanied around the floor many times. How did he do that? But, more to the point, why did his ability to do that make her uneasy?

  Entering the brightly lit ballroom, they were met by a whirlwind in blue silk.

  “There you are!” Lady Amanda Cookeson nearly pounced on her. “Come with me. I need your help.”

  She turned to smile at Lord Caverdown. “If you will excuse me, my lord.”

  “Of course.” He gave her another short bow, then turned and walked away.

  “Now, what is wrong?” Felicia asked Amanda as the two of them hurried in the other direction. “Has something happened?”

  “Not really,” Amanda answered, glancing back over her shoulder.

  “Then why are we leaving? Edward will be looking for me for the next set.”

  Amanda shook her head, setting her golden curls to dancing. “No he won’t. His mother arrived a few moments ago.”

  Felicia said no more as they strolled down a hallway lined with doors. Finding a sitting room unoccupied, they slipped inside. Felicia locked the door while Amanda lit a lamp.

  Collapsing into one of the chairs by the fireplace, she let out a long breath. Amanda dropped into a chair opposite.

  “Did Caverdown propose again?”

  “How did you know?”

  “You have a long-suffering look about you whenever one of your admirers proposes and you tell him no. Why do you think I came along when I did? Besides seeing the duchess arrive, I suspected when he asked you to walk with him that he was going to press his suit again. I’m glad you continue to refuse him. He’s nice on the surface, but he makes me nervous.”

  “Did Edward send you to find me?”

  “Not really. But, he did mention to me that you were his next partner. I think he assumed I’d tell you.”

  Felicia chewed her lower lip thoughtfully. Lord Edward’s mother, Emily Waring, was the Duchess of Warringham. It was no secret she didn’t like Felicia and had accused her of trying to trap Edward into marriage. Although friends, she and Edward agreed they needn’t annoy his mother by being seen together. She knew he was protecting her against his mother’s dislike, so at times like this, they kept their distance from one another.

  “You’re probably right,” she said absently.

  Amanda nodded. “And you should forget Lord Caverdown too. He’s only after your dowry anyway. Eliza says he has connections in the French court, but there’s some scandal in his background. It happened before she was born, so she doesn’t know much about it, but she says the older people haven’t forgotten because it involved an earl being convicted of treason by Parliament and stripped of his title.”

  Felicia laughed. Amanda’s stepmother, the Countess of Barrington, seemed to know everyone, and Felicia wasn’t surprised she knew about scandals that happened even before she was born.

  “He’s jealous of Edward.”

  Amanda’s laughter echoed off the high, frescoed ceiling. “Edward? Why that’s…”

  “Preposterous? Of course, but he doesn’t believe it. Like everyone else, he thinks I’m out for a duke, and Edward’s the closest there is.”

  Amanda’s blue eyes sparkled. “Hmmm. That might be true if Grandpa would acknowledge him as such. But, since he won’t, Edward’s out of luck.”

  “Actually, he’s in luck. We’ve been through this before. Edward does not want to be the next Duke of Warringham. I wish his mother would leave him be—and me too. I’ve never done anything to her.”

  “It’s not your fault, you know. Edward knows he’s to blame for her unrelenting hostility toward you. If he hadn’t told her he was going to offer for you, she probably would have just ignored you.” Amanda sighed. “Life would be so much easier if his brother would just show up.”

  Felicia agreed. Lord Edward Waring was the third, and youngest, son of the Duke of Warringham. The current Duchess of Warringham, Edward’s mother, was the duke’s second wife. His first wife had given him three children, of which Amanda’s stepmother, Eliza, had been the youngest. The two oldest boys had vanished from the ducal seat over twenty years ago, and despite an exhaustive search, no trace of them was found.

  A number of years after their disappearance, a gypsy purportedly told the duke his oldest son was still alive and would return someday. Since then the duke clung to the gypsy’s words, steadfastly refusing to acknowledge Lord Edward as his heir. Even now, with his health failing, he was certain his oldest son was on his way home. And, although no one would express the opinion to her face, there were many who secretly thought the duchess had somehow been involved in the older boys’ disappearance.

  A rumor had surfaced not long ago which said the duke received a letter from his oldest son. The duchess, however, had confirmed the rumor about the letter by insisting it was a hoax. And a cruel one at that. Whenever it was mentioned in her hearing, she insisted someone was being deliberately callous by trying to keep a false hope alive.

  Felicia didn’t know whether it was true or not, but she had no interest in Lord Edward beyond the fact that he was Amanda’s stepmother’s brother. The problem was that the duchess, while insisting that Edward was his father’s heir, was also very controlling. And Felicia, with her unusual background, was not considered suitable company for Edward, much less wife material. Of course, Edward had never followed through on his ridiculous comment, so she hadn’t the chance to turn him down and thereby show the duchess she was not after him or his supposed title.

  The truth was she didn’t want to marry anyone. But she knew better than to let information like that out in public.

  She’d never told anyone she didn’t intend to marry. Her siblings all thought she was diligently searching for the person who could identify her ring. While she wouldn’t discount the possibility such a person existed, the likelihood of her finding him, in her book, was slim to none. Which suited her plans nicely, because the ring was the perfect excuse to her brothers each time she refused an offer.

  Two weeks later

  The Gypsy Star pulled smoothly into the designated berth in the harbor. At the helm, Brand experienced a sense of satisfaction. He’d returned to England yet again, this time for good. This last voyage had spanned more than a year, and he’d sailed nearly around the world, buying and selling cargoes as he went. The ship’s hold was filled with silks, spices, gold, silver, ivory, and jewels. There were also two horses—an Arabian stallion and mare purchased in a horse market in Egypt.

  “McGregor!” He called to the flame-haired giant who stood on deck snapping out orders.

  Casting one final look at the progress on deck, Sean McGregor turned to approach him. Bushy red hair and a full beard and mustache meant there was little to be seen of his face besides brown eyes and a small amount of sun-browned skin.

  “Come with me.” Brand turned to head down past the galley, to the captain’s cabin.

  His trunk and two smaller bags sat near the door of the large, comfortably appointed room. Sunlight streamed through the two portholes, and fell on the table bolted
to the floor in the middle of the room. The captain’s ledger sat open on the table, fitted into a specially carved indentation.

  “You will probably be in dry dock for repairs for the next two months. I have created a list of repairs which need to be made, and some improvements that might be added. I will have Mr. Percival at the office make arrangements to have them carried out.”

  “Two months! I won’t know what to do wi’ meself on dry land for so long.”

  Brand laughed. “I’m sure you’ll find something. In the meantime, I wanted you to know this was my last voyage. I need to return home and see to my father, so when it is time for the Gypsy Star to sail again, I have decided you will be her captain.”

  The statement rendered McGregor speechless, but only for a few moments. “Me? Captain?”

  Brand smiled broadly. “I think you’ve earned it. You have been an admirable first mate, the men like you and will follow you, and I’ve no doubt as to your abilities.”

  Brand left the ship a short time later, McGregor’s appreciation and gratitude ringing in his ears, and headed for the shipping offices. London’s docks were crowded and noisy. The damp, fishy smell associated with a harbor assailed his senses as he strode purposefully toward the offices of Star Fleet Shipping. He wondered briefly where the rest of the fleet was, and did a quick accounting in his head. Night Star should be somewhere in America. Diamond Star might be in the Orient, but Twin Star, their newest ship, he had no idea.

  The manager, Mr. Percival, greeted him warmly, showing him into an elegantly furnished office overlooking warehouses and a quieter part of the docks. They discussed the disposal of the cargo he brought back, the repairs needed to the Gypsy Star, and his selection of Sean McGregor to replace him as captain. Then he learned his partner and his wife were on holiday in Italy. “However, he did leave you this.” The manager passed him an envelope. “And said I should tell you it was time for you to remain on dry land for a while.”

  Brand grinned. Just as his partner, the Marquis of Thanet, had returned home to an uncertain future three years before, so had he. He knew who he was, but he wasn’t sure he could prove it.