The Duke's Wife

The Duke's Wife
Stephanie Howard

ROYAL AFFAIRThe Duchess's dilemmaDuty ruled Damiano's life: duty to his country, his people and his baby son, but not, Sofia thought, to his wife. She knew that her wedding to the Duke of San Rinaldo had been just a matter of convenience, but it appeared that even his old flames figured more highly than her. Now, to end the rumors about their marriage, Damiano was insisting that they convince the world that theirs was a love match.It seemed that Sofia had gotten what she had always wanted–a "devoted" husband by her side–but would this fairy-tale romance ever have a real happy ending?Romancing a royal was easy, marriage another affair!

“You must have heard the rumors?” (#ued16e2ca-910c-593f-8fae-9ef36bfc564a)Letter to Reader (#u9fc326cb-b685-5f8f-94ef-e4ad00e1ff59)Title Page (#u06c4775c-6c9d-5df8-9277-51041b910872)About the Author (#u327e19ff-8bd1-5452-81a3-21d89c89675e)CHAPTER ONE (#u3ee3f975-80bb-5453-8892-ae2d027746a4)CHAPTER TWO (#u70bd1959-0a79-596f-85fa-484acc4c2ec4)CHAPTER THREE (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

“You must have heard the rumors?”

“I hear a lot of rumors.” There was a controlled edge to Sofia’s voice.

“The rumors I’m referring to are the ones speculating that you and I are about to divorce.”

“I’m at a loss to imagine what you expect me to do about it.”

“What I’d like you to do is help me put a stop to them,” Damiano said.

“Why? The more people talk about us getting divorced, the more used they’re going to get to the idea.... ”

“Of course, you’re entitled to your opinion, but I can tell you here and now that there will be no divorce. Not now. Not ever. No matter what anyone may speculate. You and I are bound together for the rest of our lives.”

Dear Reader,

Welcome to ROYAL AFFAIR! By appointment to her loyal readers, Stephanie Howard has created a blue-blooded trilogy of romeos, rebels and royalty. It follows the fortunes of the San Rinaldo royal family : Damiano, the Duke of San Rinaldo, his brother, Count Leone, and their sister, Lady Caterina. Together the three of them are dedicated to their country, people and family. But it takes only one thing to turn their perfectly ordered lives upside down: love!

COUNT LEONE MONTECRESPI, the younger brother of the ruling Duke, is a habitual heartbreaker. A playboy of the old school. love them, leave them and, on no account, marry them. But will small-town American girl, Carrie Dunn, be the one to finally get him down the aisle?

LADY CATERINA MONTECRESPI, Leone and Damiano’s baby sister, has sworn off men since her last disastrous encounter with the opposite sex. And Matthew Allenby is hardly the man to change her mind. As far as Caterina is concerned, he’s a crook and a charlatan. Unfortunately, he’s also proving irresistible!

The DUKE OF SAN RINALDO, DAMIANO MONTECRESPI, had married Sofia to secure his dukedom and produce an heir. But duty for Sofia is a cold bed partner—she wants Damiano to love her as much as he does their baby son, Alessandro. is a happy ending to their fairy-tale romance too much to ask for?

Each of these books contains its own stand-alone romance, as well as making up a great trilogy. Follow Leone and Carrie’s tale in The Colorado Countess. In The Lady’s Man, it’s Caterina and Matthew’s turn. And finally, The Duke’s Wife features Sofia and Damiano’s story—not forgetting little baby Alessandro!

Happy Reading!

The Duke’s Wife

Stephanie Howard

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

Stephanie Howard was born and brought up in Dundee, Scotland, and educated at the London School of Economics. For ten years she worked as a joumalist in London on a variety of women’s magazines, among them Woman’s Own, and was latterly editor of the now-defunct Honey. She has spent many years living and working abroad—in Italy, Malaysia, the Philippines and in the Middle East.

CHAPTER ONE

SOFIA leaned against the window and gazed down into the palace gardens, where the first buds of spring were starting to break through. And she smiled, for on the path that led down to the lake she could see Alessandro, her sixteen-month-old son, being pushed in his pram by Alice, the royal nanny. A warm glow touched her heart. No doubt, she reflected, they were on their way to say hello to the swans, little Alessandro’s current passion. She would join them in the nursery later to hear all about it. Then she sighed. But first there was the meeting with Damiano to get through.

At that thought Sofia felt a quick dart of apprehension, and as she straightened, frowning, her head was caught in sunlight. A pale, oval face with perfect regular features—wide grey-blue eyes, sensitive and intelligent, short feminine nose, full soft-lipped mouth—and a frame of glorious red-gold hair that fell in a rippling cascade to her shoulders and made a wonderful dramatic contrast with the peacock-blue of her wool dress.

It was no wonder that Sofia, the young Duchess of San Rinaldo, was renowned throughout the world for her beauty, though, had such a thing been possible, she would without a second thought have traded the glorious gift of her beauty, plus all the fabulous wealth and privileges that were hers, if only she could have had the one precious prize that eluded her.

There was a sudden sound behind her, then a deep male voice spoke.

‘I see you got here before me. I trust you haven’t been waiting long?’

‘Only a couple of minutes.’ Sofia did not turn round. Her heart had crashed inside her at the sound of that voice and she needed a couple of seconds to drive the emotion from her face. ‘I was just watching Alessandro on his way down to the lake.’

‘He’ll be going to see the swans.’ Damiano, as he spoke, came to stand a few feet away from her at the window. He glanced outside as the child and his nanny disappeared between the trees. ‘I reckon his first word is going to be “swans”, not “Mama” or “Papa” like other children.’

‘That wouldn’t surprise me.’

At last, Sofia turned to look at him, her features composed, her expression serene again, though, as she looked into her husband’s eyes, a familiar sadness touched her heart. Once, he had been the centre of her very existence and, more than likely, she would always love him, in spite of her efforts to stop. But at least she no longer loved him with the helpless desperation of before, with a love so self-annihilating and all-consuming that it had almost felt like a kind of madness. And it would have driven her mad, too, in the end, if she had not conquered it, for the tragedy was that Damiano had never loved her.

He was looking back at her with those eyes as black as midnight. Fierce, beautiful eyes, the mirror of a passionate and ruthless soul, that were softened now with the warmth of his love for his son.

‘Shall we sit?’

As he spoke, Damiano turned away from the window and was gesturing in the direction of a group of chairs and sofas which were arranged round the huge fireplace where a log fire flickered. For it was the middle of February and even here in San Rinaldo, the sun-drenched little dukedom on the edge of the Mediterranean, the late afternoons could be a little chilly. The flicker of the flames brought a warm glow to the room with its imposing oil paintings, fine French furniture and colourful Persian rugs strewn about the floor.

‘Let’s make ourselves a little more comfortable,’ he smiled.

‘Of course.’

That smile caused a momentary warm glow to touch Sofia’s heart. There was much harshness in his character—he could be so unforgiving—but that rare smile, which always surprised, had a potent magic. Though Sofia was not taken in, of course. She knew why he had smiled and it was not because he derived any pleasure from her company. He was simply keeping her sweet, anxious to avoid any unpleasantness, for these days their rare encounters teetered on a knife-edge of civility and he was clearly anxious to ensure there was no unpleasantness this afternoon.

Not that he need worry, Sofia reflected. She had grown to be quite an expert at keeping her emotions under control. Still, as she crossed to one of the blue damask armchairs and sat down, watching him from beneath her lashes as he seated himself in the armchair opposite, she felt another quick dart of apprehension. For what purpose had he summoned her here?

Her eyes flickered over his dark-eyed face with its wide, sensuous mouth, sculpted jawline and strong curved nose—that unmistakable Montecrespi nose, proud, aristocratic, almost hawk-like, which could be seen in the scores of portraits of his ancestors that hung in their gilt frames from the palace walls. Oh, yes, he was undoubtedly the most glorious-looking man.

He was tall—even Sofia, who was tall herself, only came up as far as his chin!—with a wonderful, easy, regal bearing. Thirty-seven years old, he looked every inch of what he was: Damiano Raffaele Louis Nicoolo di Montecrespi, twelfth hereditary Duke of San Rinaldo and ruler of one of the richest little states in southern Europe. Though the Duke of San Rinaldo was not what Sofia saw when she looked at him. What she saw was the man she’d wasted most of her life loving, for she’d loved him for the greater part of her twenty-three years. And it had been a waste, for his heart belonged to another woman.

He was sitting back in his chair, hair black as tar against the blue damask, his tanned, strong-fingered hands laid lightly along the chair arms. And though he was dressed fairly casually, in dark trousers and a navy shirt, Sofia could sense that his mood was far from casual. Quite clearly, he had something important on his mind.

But he was not divulging what that was yet. He said, referring to Alessandro, ‘He’s a bright child. And walking so well now. I think we’re all going to have our hands full in a couple of months’ time.’

‘I reckon we are.’

He really adored Alessandro. Whenever he spoke of him a light ignited in his eyes and the sometimes harsh lines around his mouth instantly softened. In those moments one caught a glimpse of the passionate human heart that lurked behind the often flinty façade. It was a side of him, Sofia knew, that not everyone was aware of, though she had always been aware of its existence. It was one of the reasons she had fallen in love with him. And it pleased her that Alessandro, the precious child they had made together, could ignite that light in his father’s eyes just with the mention of his name.

She added, knowing he would be interested, for he was interested in everything about Alessandro, ‘Alice tells me that he absolutely refuses to crawl at all these days. He insists on walking, even if he has to use his walker.’

Damiano smiled a proud smile. ‘There’s going to be no stopping him.’ And again that unmistakable flash of love touched his eyes. Then he sat back in his seat. ‘I’ve asked for some tea to be brought up. I thought you might like some tea and biscuits?’

Sofia nodded. ‘That would be nice.’ But that knot of anxiety deep inside her tightened. It wasn’t like him to go to all this trouble. Normally, on the rare occasions when he wished to speak to her, he simply called her to his office and said what he had to say. Today he was acting quite out of character, first choosing as their meeting place the informal setting of the Rose Room and now offering her tea and biscuits! What was he about to spring on her? Sofia found herself wondering.

She watched him closely as he observed, ‘Your secretary tells me you’re planning to attend a private dinner on Thursday evening?’

It was said casually enough, but Sofia’s practised eyes had instantly spotted the little giveaway signs that told her he was coming to the point of this encounter. The slight tightening around his jawline, the shuttered look in the dark eyes, the unmistakably authoritarian way he was sitting back in his chair. She felt another tightening inside her. So he was about to put an end to the suspense! And she forced herself to sound as casual as he had as she answered.

‘That’s right. I’ve been invited to dinner at the Pasquales’.’ Then she added with just a twist of annoyance, ’You could have found out what I was doing by asking me directly, you know. There was really no need to make enquiries through my secretary.’