Best Duke Ever

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✅ Best Duke Ever

What Readers Are Saying:
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"A fun little treat of a story!"

"a sparkling gem in the realm of regency romance, spinning a delightful tale of friendship, love, and independence."

"Another well written delightful novella which I read in a sitting & thoroughly enjoyed it"

"Piers expertly crafts the dynamic duo of Lady Lenora and Edward, Duke of Greystone, weaving a story that is both humorous and heartwarming."

Chapter 1
1815

“You’re fuming.”

“I am not.”

“Tell that to my throat. I’m choking on the smoke you’re emitting.”

With a huff, of…what some might call smoke…Lenora crossed her arms over her chest.

“Here.” Edward, Duke of Langston, pulled a wrapped treat out of his pocket and held out his hand. “Have this petit four. It should assuage your rage. Tame your flame.”

“I’m not raging. And my flame doesn’t need taming.” But she took the small confection anyway.

“There you go. Those always seem to make you feel a little better.”

She would have harrumphed, but she didn’t want to lose even the tiniest of crumbs should one fly out of her mouth. So instead, she gave him a mocking tilt of the head.

Edward officially had two modes, stoic and smug, and right now, the smugness exuding from him was so strong it practically had a fragrance. And it almost overrode his default bergamot scent that she had come to expect and inhale in his presence.

She cast him a furtive glance to view his profile. Yes. He was smug all right. Tight lips with just a hint of a curl in one corner. Hands in his pockets. Rocking back on his heels. Staring out at the dancers, yet paying her all his attention. She knew that to be true because she could feel it.

“If you continue staring at me, people might get the wrong idea, Lenora.”

And then she did harrumph.

“That’s not your most becoming sound.”

“I’m not trying to sound becoming at the moment, Edward. I’m frustrated.”

“I know—”

“I’m not fuming.”

He shrugged his irritating shoulders, but before he could defend his position, she plowed on with a winning argument. “It’s different.”

The small curl she had caught earlier was a full fledged smirk now.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No. I do not want to talk about my lying sister and libertine father.”

“Well—”

“And I do not want to talk about how she should have trusted me with the secret of his astronomical debt, nor do I want to talk about how angry I am with my father for his reckless decisions in the midst of grieving the loss of his wife. She was my mother. I’m not out and about gallivanting at night making terrible life-threatening decisions, am I?” Her hands gripped her upper arms hard, turning her cold knuckles white. “And I most certainly do not wish to speak of my sister marrying in Gretna Green without me.” She sniffed. “Her only sister.”

In such a discreet fashion as to make Lenora wonder if it was intentional, Edward dragged a finger over hers, down her upper arm.

“Dance with me.” It was an instruction. He wasn’t even looking at her. Still. Yet she knew she had more of his attention than any of the men she had ever danced with.

Begrudgingly she let him entangle his fingers in hers, pulling her onto the dance floor just as the first strains of a waltz began to play.

Countless times Lenora had danced with Edward. And each time had felt just as familiar as the last. It was a place of comfort to have his arms around her. His attention undivided. His listening ear opened. And his words of—generally sage—advice at the ready.

If she wanted to open up about anything on her heart or mind, she knew that she could, or if she wanted to dance in silence, that was equally welcomed.

They had been friends for so long that Lenora could hardly remember the first time she had met him. He was a confidant. A point of safety and refuge. And one of her best friends.

And really, she did want to tell him all of her thoughts and feelings about the whole ordeal with her sister. But it felt so raw.

She had just read the note from her sister a couple of days ago. By now, surely the two were married. But to think that Seraphina had married Sebastian, Duke of Ravenshire, was preposterous.

Sebastian had caught her own eye earlier in the season, but any time Lenora mentioned interest in him, Seraphina had forbidden her to have any contact with him. At first Lenora had thought it was just his horrendous reputation amongst the ton, but now that the two were eloping, she knew better.

Well, she still didn’t know anything, but soon enough she would query Seraphina until all her questions were satisfied. But it didn’t really make a difference because regardless of how many questions were answered, there was only one answer that mattered. And that was that Lenora was now alone.

She had always had Seraphina. Even though she was two years older than her, Seraphina had taken her everywhere. Done everything with her. Ran through the fields on a summer day. Built a fort out of old logs. Learned to bake cookies together. Taught her how to dance.

And just recently their mother had passed away leaving their father lost in his grieving and talking about traveling to get away from it all. All of it, which Lenora had just recently been made privy to know included a debt that Seraphina had paid somehow.

Seraphina was going to get married. Leaving Lenora all alone. The last thing she wanted in life was to be left alone.

It had been a distraction—a pleasurable one—to consider garnering the attention of Sebastian. It was like a small challenge amidst so much pain that she couldn’t resist.

The thing was, Sebastian had made a bit of an impact on her, and she was having a hard time getting over him. The man wasn’t just handsome, he was drop your fan, bat your lashes, sashay past him good looking. All actions, by the by, that Seraphina had prohibited.

“She should have told me,” she said on hushed tones.

“Yes. She should have.” Edward’s hand gave hers a tight squeeze.

“I would never leave her out of something so monumental.” She blinked hard, holding back her tears.

“I know.”

The music came to an end.

Blinking hard to back any further annoying tears, she said, “Now. Go dance with my cousin Mirabelle. She’s a terrible wingwoman. I think she brought a book this evening and hasn’t had a partner all night. I’m going to freshen up.” Lord only knew how flushed her cheeks might be, or how red-rimmed her eyes might look.

“I’ll find you later.”

She mumbled back, “I know. You always will.”