A Duke's son to the rescue (Regency Romance) (Regency Tales Book 4) Read Online Free PDF

behaviour of her parents.
    “Good morning, Belladonna,” said a familiar voice.
    The unexpected sound of a man’s voice breaking into the quiet morning made her jump.
    “I’m forever startling you,” Davenport sighed. “I must apologise again.”
    She smiled at him. “No apology necessary,” she told him. “I wasn’t expecting anyone.”
    “I’ll apologise anyway,” he decided. “For all current and future transgressions. It’s a much better way to start the day.”
    “Apologising seems to be a tiresome way to begin the day,” she disagreed, but with a smile that turned her lustrous dark eyes into beacons of light and merriment.
    “Not if you forgive me,” he said promptly, sitting down on the ground beside her.
    “You’ll get grass strains on your trousers,” she warned him.
    “They’ll wash out,” he said carelessly.
    “If someone washes them out,” she told him, her tone gentle but her meaning unmistakable.
    His blue eyes showed remorse. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. “It seems as though I’ve done it again. I wasn’t thinking but you’re correct. Someone, yes someone surely must pay for my heedless behaviour. But if I stand,” he rose to his feet, “then I’m made to feel as if you’re beneath me.”
    Charlotte tilted her head to look up at him. He was framed by the sunlight at his back, wreathing him in bright rays. “My father would agree with you,” she replied. “I’m lowborn, after all.” With those words, she turned around and walked towards the area where the horses were tethered. She did not get far before being accosted by her father.
    “What are you doing, girl? I told you to work and here you are, idle like the lazy, good-for-nothing—” Mr Smith’s tirade came to a halt as he saw Lord Davenport emerge. “You, girl,” George directed his attention to his daughter. “Get back to work!”
    “I must remind you, Smith, that you work for my family. If I choose to task your daughter with conversing with me, you must oblige me.” Lord Davenport, although young, carried the authority of his position well, and in control of the situation, he easily put George Smith in his place.
    Mr Smith glowered, and his eyes threatened consequences to Charlotte. Subdued, he swallowed whatever he was about to say and bowed submissively.
    “My deepest apologies your lordship, no offence was intended.”
    Lord Davenport, continued to stare at Smith sternly.
    Charlotte rose to her feet.
    “His lordship has asked me to show him the Amaryllis Belladonna,” she said, managing with difficulty to keep a smile from breaking out on her face. “As he is highborn and I am lowborn, I must obey his wishes.”

SEVEN
     
    Davenport strolled into the dining room whistling to a tune that he’d heard someone sing during the festival. He was surprised to see his father sitting at the head of the table, his leonine head and grey beard giving him the look of an aging but powerful monarch.
    “There’s been talk about you,” his father said.
    “Talk about me?” Davenport was puzzled. He thought his behaviour generally above reproach; unlike other young men of his age and social status, he didn’t gamble to excess, or drink to the point of drunkenness, and he didn’t trifle with women. He was no saint, but he prided himself on being a gentleman. “What on earth would anyone say? I haven’t even left the grounds all day.”
    “So I hear. You were seen in the company of the daughter of one of the gardeners,” the Duke said grimly. “What on earth were you thinking? There’s only one reason for a boy your age to spend time with a girl of her breeding and I thought better of you.”
    Davenport flushed. “Sir, you wrong me! I have never insulted Charlotte with advances. She is a virtuous girl and if the truth were born, she has more grace and breeding in her bearing than any of the ladies I’ve met in the drawing rooms of the upper classes. Charlotte is gentle and kind and she is much abused