LOVING HER DUKE

LOVING HER DUKE

last updateLast Updated : 2024-02-05
By:  Psalm Matonni  Completed
Language: English
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"I will not be your mistress." She spoke, whispering, with her mouth a sigh away from his. He swallowed hard and nodded, agreeing with her even as he closed the distance between them, kissing her to madness, leaving nothing to sanity. Bethany Fitzgerald hated the very idea of marriage and stood against it with everything she was. Charles de Norcrosse had to marry the insufferable Lady Cossington, for it was the will of his late father and he must abide by it. But when fate moved in favour of the Duke of Carlisle and the daughter of an impoverished Land Baron, very little can be done to fight against it.

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Prologue 1

The BRITISH BLOOD TRILOGY (Loving Her Duke - First: Hating Her King - Second: Saving Her Prince - Third) September 1821 “Beth. Bethany, wake up. It’s morning.” Eric whispered in her ear, shaking her up. She stirred and turned, shoving him away as she did. “Wake up woman, it’s your birthday.” He whispered again, successfully capturing her attention. Beth sat up and glared at her brother who was sitting on the edge of her bed. The heat from the fireplace had reduced with the dead fire, but Eric held up a candle to her face, smiling sheepishly at her. His face would make anyone think that the survival of the world rested singularly on her birthday. She blinked and started to lie back down. Eric pulled her legs to rouse her even more. “Stop it!” She whined. “What is it about my birthday that's making you so joyful?” He placed his finger on his lips, then walked to the table and sat candle down. Whispering, he said. “Quiet down, unless you intend to wake Mother and Father.” Beth pulle

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Comments

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Sammy
I love this book it has kept me on my toes. I wish it be a sequel knowing what happen to the King and Gwen and much more. A amazing book.
2024-04-29 03:28:26
2
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Alpha Lynn
A slow-paced but to-the-poiny novel, no excessive drama just an easy-going back-in-time romance novel, leaving the readers to want more.
2024-01-20 15:01:49
4
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Akata Hughes
I love this book thank you so much dear Author! Highly Recommended
2024-01-08 13:54:09
2
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Àngëlïca Jones
I love the it
2024-01-07 11:47:46
2
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acidicgreenapple
Love me a good period romance novel!
2024-01-07 01:07:36
3
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Kødëx G
Nice and different from others. I really hope you complete it and start a new book on Alexander too
2024-01-06 08:26:53
3
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Psalm Matonni
Nice plot, good character build up, great pace
2023-12-20 02:08:28
4
user avatar
Psalm Matonni
I believe this book to be a great work of art that deserves reading.
2023-12-13 13:00:33
4
user avatar
Psalm Matonni
This book is amazing!!!
2024-10-24 05:51:29
1
user avatar
Psalm Matonni
I believe this book to be a great work of art that deserves reading.
2023-12-13 12:56:54
4
137 Chapters

Prologue 1

The BRITISH BLOOD TRILOGY (Loving Her Duke - First: Hating Her King - Second: Saving Her Prince - Third) September 1821 “Beth. Bethany, wake up. It’s morning.” Eric whispered in her ear, shaking her up. She stirred and turned, shoving him away as she did. “Wake up woman, it’s your birthday.” He whispered again, successfully capturing her attention. Beth sat up and glared at her brother who was sitting on the edge of her bed. The heat from the fireplace had reduced with the dead fire, but Eric held up a candle to her face, smiling sheepishly at her. His face would make anyone think that the survival of the world rested singularly on her birthday. She blinked and started to lie back down. Eric pulled her legs to rouse her even more. “Stop it!” She whined. “What is it about my birthday that's making you so joyful?” He placed his finger on his lips, then walked to the table and sat candle down. Whispering, he said. “Quiet down, unless you intend to wake Mother and Father.” Beth pulle
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Prologue 2

The grass on which she stood on slipped her off the hill. In her shock and horror, Beth let out a fearful cry, reaching out blindly as she fell off. Eric grabbed her and tried to pull back but the wet grass wouldn’t comply – he slipped too and landed on his knees. He hissed painfully but held unto her. “Eric! Eric!! Don’t let go. Please don’t let go.” Her plea resounded on the hill.“I won’t. I won’t.” He was slipping too, she could see it; she could feel it. And as though on cue, Eric fell off the edge along with her. Beth screamed, grabbing unto him with her other hand, tightening her grip. Eric grunted but didn’t let go, he held her with one hand and with the other, somehow found something to hold onto.Scared, she called out. “Help! Help!!”They slipped further. “Stop yelling! You would only make it worse.”Oh, good gracious! The tears gathered, slowly impairing her vision. They were going to die! They would surely die! “I don’t want to die, Eric. Don’t let us die.” She cried out
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Up A Hill

September 1826Beth quickened her pace as the footfalls behind closed in on her, running up the rough road with strength she had no idea she possessed, her heart in her mouth. At six ‘o’clock in the morning, Beth suddenly realized, much to her chagrin, that Carlisle might not be the safest of places.Her hands frantically searched through her bag for something, anything that would serve as a defensive means to protect herself but flowers wouldn’t even scare the nicest of people, how would it scare anyone else? She could call someone for help, but whom? And if she should try to, her assailant – she supposed the person behind her was one – would catch up with her before she could call for help again. No, she shouldn’t, the knowledge they lacked regarding her exact position was probably the only advantage she had over them. If she tried to call for anyone, her voice would give it away and that was not what she wanted. Perhaps she should seek refuge in one of the caravans? But no one was
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Talking To A Stranger

She impulsively stepped back, her grip tightened. “Don’t come any closer. Don’t give me a reason to hurt you.” Again he stepped closer and she stepped back in response, her heart missing a beat. “Please stop Sir, I beg of you.” The tears threatened but she held them at bay.Hands in the air in mock surrender, he said. ”You should really put the bag down. I doubt chrysanthemum could hurt anyone.” He put his hands down and sent the one bearing his cigar to his mouth for another drag. “My parents would not appreciate you hurting me. I am an only child you see, very much loved.”How did he know she had chrysanthemums in her bag? “How did you…? How were yo…? How did you know I have only chrysanthemums in my bag?” Her voice helped her thoughts.“I didn’t know you had only chrysanthemums.” He drawled. “They possess such lovely smell. Makes you want to smile all day long for absolutely no reason at all.” It wasn’t a sarcastic comment, it was simply a statement. He knew of flowers.He had no i
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Preparing For A Ball

* * *From a comfortable position on the bed, Beth watched as Lucy added even more rouge to her cheeks and smiled at the mirror – she looked beautiful. Her ever unruly hair danced on the side of her face as she turned to look more upon her makeup. Gwen sauntered into the room, looking beautiful as well.“Beth, Aunt Marrily said to come to the door in ten minutes.” She approached the mirror. Lucy gave her a thin blue sash.Beth pushed herself down on the bed and closed the book she held, dog-earing where she was. “I told earlier that I want no part of this ball. How best should I say this?” She lifted herself to her elbows. “I do not want to attend the ball.”“Mother!” Lucy turned to the door. “Beth says she won’t attend the ball!”She jolted up. “Lucy!”“What is this I hear?” Aunt Marrily was immediately at the door, hand on her hip. “Why would she not…?” Her Aunt stepped into the room. “Why wouldn’t you want to go to the ball? This is the very reason I asked my sister to send you ove
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A Place To Behold

The ball was as loud and entertaining as any ball could be. Beth was reminded of the few balls her Mother had forced her to attend before giving up the idea, when she realized that Beth truly did not intend to marry. The ball was welcoming to all who loved and hated attention. The hall was large and accommodated the peers of the gentry, for as many that could visit Carlisle and grace the party. Lucy had told them that balls hosted at Carlisle Crest, home to the Duke of Carlisle, were never dull, and it was soon turning out to be shockingly true.From the moment they arrived, the music, the dance and wine opened up to them, and Aunt Marrily wasted no time in passing them over to whichever gentleman came to ask for a dance. By the time Beth had her first drink for the night, she had danced with six different bachelors and her feet were starting to hurt.She quickly escaped her partner as soon as the song was done, and retreated to the wall to gain back her composure, standing, hiding, a
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Another Stranger?

Their Aunt approached them, two fine gentlemen on either side; her smile was broad and naughty. She stopped briefly to hold a discussion with Lucy, introducing the men to her. Beth straightened her stance while Gwen patted her hair again. “You seem happy.” She observed the younger girl.“I enjoy the attention.” She whispered. “I choose to. Hold up your best smile, else Aunt Marrily will never forgive you.”Their faces lit up immediately as their Aunt finally stood before them. “Go easy on the wine, sweet child.” She warned. Gwen turned red but Aunt Marrily didn’t care. “Sir George, these are my nieces, Beth and Gwen. Beautiful, are they not?” Ignoring whatever reply the men would have given, she continued. “Girls, this is Sir George, a fine Cavalry soldier, second son to the Earl of Moore.”“Lovely to make your acquaintance.” He shook both their hands, kissing hers on the knuckle, holding on longer until Beth slowly withdrew. He gave her a too-bright smile.A smile stuck in place on h
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The Duke Of Carlisle!

She lifted her head, surprised he had heard her. The moonlight danced on her face again. Flustered, she said. “By my standards, I am. I am quite a meticulous being.” She turned to him and tried to make out his face but the light from behind made her effort fruitless. Somehow, he stood on the spot where she couldn’t see him, maybe on purpose. “I can't handle alcohol well,” she continued, “but tonight I am on the bridge, questioning if to cross.” She smacked her lips and whispered. “Maybe I will. That might just be enough for Aunt Marrily to leave me be.”“You don’t enjoy parties? Or is it this particular ball you are against?” He drank from his glass.She thought for a moment. “This ball is amazing, and parties are wonderful, but my ever-forward and free-spirited Aunt has introduced me to every gentleman in that room.” She threw her head in the direction of the ballroom. “I think I have had my fair share for a lifetime.”“That cannot be true.” She turned to him. “You weren’t introduced
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Mutual Friends Or Foes?

This time she laughed lightly, her hand still over her mouth. “I suppose one does, for your sake.” She leaned again on the railing, this time, putting up enough distance between them. “The view from up here is beautiful.”She commented, he said nothing. After a while, “You are Carlisle.” He looked to her. “On the hill, why did you say you were an only child?”He looked away. “Because I am. ““You mentioned both parents. You only have a Mother.”Nothing.Maybe she had been rude. The silence that followed was at first unnerving and scary, but soon it brought comfort, as they listened to the music flowing in from the ballroom and the gay laughter of men and women. Beth closed her eyes and nodded her head slowly to the beat, enjoying it as much as she couldn’t when she was in the ballroom. The breeze swayed the garden's trees again, but she was content enough to not care about anything.He tapped the railing twice. “How is your wound?”She opened her eyes. “What wound?”“From this morning.
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He Was Present Tonight

She inclined her head, struggling to keep her emotions at bay. “Hate is a strong word.”“And yet not strong enough to convey the feelings you harbour against him.” She looked away, shaken that he could see through her. “Did he pursue you with dishonourable intentions?”“No!” She wished it had been her. He should have pursued her so.“Were you abandoned at the altar?” He threw his cigar to the ground and crushed it.She exhaled deeply. “Please, Your Grace, It was nothing of the sort. Believe me.” His hoarse voice, rather than annoy her with the badger of questions like the morning before, appeased her for he wasn’t a sycophant trying to please. And why should he try to please her? He was higher than her in wealth, status and in every possible way.When she lifted her head, he was walking closer, she oddly stepped back, unsure of the reason for her action. He stopped and said. “I am intrigued. What was it?”“Please, Your Grace, I mean no disrespect, but I would rather not dwell on that
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