A Slumber for a Duke | Paperback

A nanny with a secret passion. A duke who doesn’t believe in love. Both fighting dreams and dances to stay true to their hearts.

Rose, a lowly nanny, has accomplished the impossible, but she has to keep it a secret from the ton. With the help of some friends, she has finally made all of her dreams come true. At least, all the dreams that she’s willing to let herself still have.

Andrew, the Duke of Marland, does not believe in love at first sight. And he’s only looking for a convenient wife that will fit neatly into all of his plans. That is, until he dances in the woods with the most glorious creature he’s ever seen.

Finding themselves alone in a cabin after collapsing in the woods, will Rose and Andrew be able to resist falling in love? Or will they find that the best dreams are meant to be too good to be true?

Read A Slumber for a Duke to really, and truly dream again.

A Slumber for a Duke is the third standalone novella in the steamy regency romance series: Dukes for Christmas Fairytales.

Book 1: A Beauty for a Duke
Book 2: An Ember for a Duke
Book 3: A Slumber for a Duke
Book 4: A Flurry for a Duke
Book 5: A Villain for a Duke

1816, England
“WAKE UP!” FOLLOWED BY a swat to the knee jolted Rose out of her reverie. Far be it from the swatting duchess to temper her enthusiasm, even with her daughter’s nanny.

“I’m not sleeping, Your Grace. I do have tea in my hand.” Rose raised her teacup as proof. The two were sitting in the duchess’ private chambers taking tea as a short reprieve from the house party that the Duke of Stonecastle was hosting. All the events, and all the guests were a blur to Rose. With so much activity, everyone was laying low today. And with Christmas only two days away, many were catching up on sleep after a long night of gossip.

“You may as well be sleeping with that look in your eyes. I hope that’s not how you watch my darling baby, Katie, all day,” she laughed. “And how many times do I have to tell you to call me Margaret?”

She would probably have to tell her a few hundred more times before Rose could even grow a smidgen more comfortable with that nomenclature.

“Yes, Madam.”

“Please, Rose. It’s Margaret. We are friends. Look what we accomplished together.” Margaret held up a newspaper. “We did it!” Rose watched enviously as Margaret exuded excitement by heralding the newspaper through the air. Though they were alone, Rose wasn’t convinced that Margaret would have held back if there had been others in the room.

“You’re published, Rose. Right here. Your very words written down for the world to read.”

Rose’s heart thumped loudly in her chest. She had done it? When? How? This was too fast. Her bottom was stuck in her chair, even though her legs wanted to pop her out of it and do a jig. Or at least twirl a few times. At least one time. Or even just stomp her foot and maybe clap her hands once. But her body was too confused to react to the news.

What Margaret was so triumphantly waving around had taken months to achieve. Rose had started in Margaret’s employ just before the baby was born, and it hadn’t taken long for the duchess to discover Rose’s writing abilities. As it was, Margaret must attract writers into her life, what with her best friend being a famous playwright. So Rose trusted Margaret with her secret, thinking no harm could come of it.

What she hadn’t expected was for there to be such great benefits in sharing her passion. Said benefits started by bonding the two together. When Margaret had come to Rose with a plan to get her published, Rose conceded, so long as it was under a pseudonym. She wasn’t looking for fame, only to share her ideas. And within a few months, Margaret had secured publishing and apparently now printing. Being a duchess could do that.

“Aren’t you excited?” Margaret asked.

“I’m–I–”

“You’re overwhelmed. Oh, I’m so glad. For a moment I didn’t know what to think.” Margaret pushed her wavy blonde locks out of her face. “I’m so happy for you, Rose.”

“Thank you, Mada–Margaret.” It was uncomfortable, but it felt right for her gratitude to be shared as friends. “How can I ever thank you?”

“Don’t leave me,” Margaret laughed. “When you become rich and famous. I still need you.”

Margaret reached down, pulled Rose to her feet, and gave her a tight squeeze. In a hoarse voice, Margaret said, “I’m only half serious, my dear friend. I need you for Katie. But even more, I need for you to be happy. You deserve it.”

“Thank you. I don’t know that I do. But I’m so grateful. I never thought to dream of anything like this for my life. After Harry passed away…well, I didn’t know what to do. And then I found you. I don’t know what I would do without you.” The words tumbled out, as if she were sharing with an old friend.

“For goodness’ sakes Rose, your widowhood makes you an Ace of Spades, not an ape leader. You’re a nanny, and–although it means I may lose you before I’m ready–I must tell you that I see something more in you.”

“I think this is dream enough for me.”

“Come now. Allow yourself to dream more. Just as you did with this. If there are more dreams inside of you, wake them up. Life is too short for sleepy dreams.”

In the typical whir and wake fashion of Margaret, she gently released her hold on Rose without waiting for a reply. “Now I simply must go share this news with Jonathan. My husband will be delighted. And you and I shall celebrate together later. Once you decide how you’d like to do so.”

“You know me too well. Thank you, Mada–Margaret,” Rose finished as the duchess patted her arm.

The duchess did know her only too well. There were so many dreams that Rose had let sleep inside her. So deep asleep that, in fact, she thought they might be dead. But this. This news of being published, well, it changed everything.

Maybe her dreams could finally be woken up.

But first she really did want to celebrate this incredible news. And she knew of only one way in which she wanted to do that.

Rose grabbed her overcoat and raced outside in the snow.

The reticent smile that just couldn’t show up earlier had finally stolen her face. Her cheeks were beginning to hurt from the grin that pushed itself to her ears. Once she was far enough from the house that she could no longer see it, she began to sing and twirl herself across the blanket of snow on the ground. The evergreens rose high into the skies on either side of her, before her and behind her. As if rejoicing with her, their branches stretched to the white clouds above.

It was Christmas, and with the news she had just received, only one song rang through her mind. In a loud, melodious, soprano, she burst out singing, “Hark! Hark what news the angels bring. Glad tidings of a new-born King. Born of a maid, a virgin pure. Born without sin, from guilt secure.”

There was no sadness here. In this moment, in this place, Rose had truly found a new purpose for her life. Solely for herself.

Almost two years ago, when her husband Harry had passed away, Rose had been forced to learn how to start over. With no immediate family, she didn’t know where to turn. Rose had almost taken her friend Sofie up on a job offer to be a barmaid at her father’s tavern, when Adeline had told her of an opening for a nannying position to the Duchess of Somersby. It had always been Rose’s dream to have children and a placement with a duchess was an astonishing opportunity. Upon Adeline’s recommendation, Margaret agreed to hire her. And the relationship had only grown closer over the last year.

Now Rose was two-and-thirty. She felt too old for a family and children, but at least she had Margaret and baby Katie. Her dreams for a child had evolved into being a nanny. And with that role, she could have as many children as she liked.

At one point she had considered trying to find a second husband. There were a few men in the village that had promise, but she had been mourning Harry. Then, once she took on the job of nannying, there was no time for dallying, nevermind something more than that. And now that she was being published, she was absolutely certain that she had no time to look for a husband.