The Unusual Story of the Silent Duchess: A Historical Regency Romance Novel

by Linfield, Emma

  The villagers didn’t know the appropriate dances, but to them, that had no importance. Neil laughed at the band’s shock as the tenants romped about in their own, casual way, stomping and jumping and clapping.

  Finally, it was time for the newly-wedded couple to be whisked away. Everyone clapped, laughed, and sang them off. Both of their faces were beet red from the joint attention, but it was clear that they enjoyed the reception.

  The night dwindled away, and the villagers drifted back off to their cottages. The band ceased to play and packed up, preparing to spend the night at Grover’s public house.

  When all the house was emptied, Neil dismissed the servants for the evening.

  “We shall all clean tomorrow,” he announced with a slight slur. “For tonight is too happy a night for it.”

  This was a vastly popular opinion among the servants, and so soon Neil and Mary-Anne were left alone in the party-torn ballroom.

  “What a day,” Neil remarked.

  “And night,” Mary-Anne added, resting her head on his shoulder.

  “Indeed,” Neil agreed, sipping down the last of his brandy. He set his glass aside on a festival-strewn table. “Perhaps, when we are married, we can go simpler on the festivities.”

  “I would like that,” Mary-Anne replied. “Something nice and quiet. Just us.”

  “Don’t forget my grandmother,” Neil cautioned. “She has been hard at work on this for years now.”

  “Of course not,” Mary-Anne smiled back at him. “Just your family, is all I meant.”

  “I know, dear,” he grinned back. “I could not agree more.”

  They decided to marry by the sea. They found a small church on the eastern coast, not far from the beach home. Kaitlin carried the rings, and Phyllis sat elated and sobbing in a pew, while Oliver gave Mary-Anne away.

  Thomas stood in the rear of the church, quietly crying tears of joy to himself, elated to finally see the Duke free from his depression.

  Thomas had reconciled with the two of them, horrified by his complacency in Julian’s deception. Neil had touched his cheek and simply said: “Thomas, your only crime is caring too much for my well-being, and that is hardly something to fire you about.”

  The ceremony was peaceful. The bright seaside sun streamed through the stained-glass windows and illuminated the wedding couple in mystical radiance. The pair seemed to glow as they kissed, sealing their ceremony for eternity.

  Directly afterward, they absconded to Paris for a multitude of weeks, constantly extending their trip by another day or two.

  “It is just a jaunt across the channel,” Neil would say.

  “There will always be another ship,” Mary-Anne would reply.

  In this manner, they traveled the whole of the French countryside. Neil had vast knowledge of the area, garnered while in the army, and they visited magnificent vistas, churches, and castles that had been neglected on major maps.

  They ate fine foods by the river, took in revolutionary art, and in short, lived as if they had not a care in the world. Which they didn’t.

  Only after what seemed like far too short a time in the spectacular French countryside, they returned to England.

  As they boarded the ship, Neil realized the only reason he truly had to return was his daughter.

  “If Kaitlin traveled with us,” he remarked, “we could go anywhere we wanted, at any time.”

  “What of your work?” Mary-Anne pressed back, reclining beside him on the ship’s railing. “You made me a promise that you would revisit the House of Lords, do not forget.”

  “I have not forgotten,” Neil acknowledged. “I only face it with a slight bit of dread.”

  “You should not fear them,” Mary-Anne assured him. “They are old, insignificant men who care only for their glory days. This you have told me.”

  “Yes, so I have,” Neil replied, glancing around. “Although it is an unpopular opinion.

  “Well,” she took his arm tight in hers, staring out over the English Channel as the ship got under way. “It seems to me that your glory days are now upon you.”

  “I have long been away from the service,” Neil protested.

  “The war with France is long over,” she countered. “Greatness is no longer measured by how many Eagles one tried to capture, but by the evolution of ideas and by the awakened, motivated, good person that wants to make a difference.”

  “You are calling me a good person?” Neil teased, raising his eyebrows.

  “I am,” Mary-Anne kissed him on his cheek. “They should not scare you, all those old generals and lords. You should scare them.”

  “Perhaps you are right, my love,” Neil pondered. “I had not thought of it in that way.”

  “Leave the military career to someone younger, someone who wants it,” she went on.

  “Like someone we know?”

  “Perhaps,” she smiled at her husband.

  “I think you are correct, my love,” Neil finally said, turning back with her to watch the passing waves. “Just as you are now a new Duchess, I am a new Duke. We should let the world know who we are.”

  “Will you take me into society then?” Mary-Anne asked curiously. “I know you have not attended for years, and I, never,”

  “Oh, I think we must,” Neil argued. “For we will give them much to talk about.”

  “That we will,” Mary-Anne nestled herself against her husband’s chest, letting the salt air rile her hair freely.

  “But there is nothing they can do,” Neil laughed out. “For we are richer, more important, more civil, and happier than every old face in London. Let them talk, let them laugh! I care for them not, only for you.”

  “I do love you,” Mary-Anne turned her face up to his, drinking in his proximity.

  “And I you,” Neil kissed her, and their new life began in earnest.

  The End?

  Extended Epilogue

  Eager to know more on how Mary-Anne’s and Neil’s relationship evolved? Then enjoy this free complimentary short story featuring the beloved couple.

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  Dangerous Games of a Broken Lady

  About the Book

  Adelaide has it all. Youth, a loving family, an unconventional personality and a serious misconception about true love that leads her to a betrothal to the Duke of Bradford, a very dangerous man. However, shortly after her betrothal, she discovers she is in love with her friend since childhood, Jasper Fitzwilliam.

  Jasper, the handsome Viscount Gillet, tries to warn Adelaide about the Duke but his efforts are fruitless: it’s too late now to call off the engagement. The evil Duke knows a well-kept secret — the financial ruination of Adelaide's family — and threatens to destroy everyone she loves if they don't comply with his sadistic wishes.

  In this quest for salvation, where the stakes are high and time is his enemy, Jasper is the only one who can save her family...by offering his own sacrifice.

  Chapter 1

  Lady Adelaide Colborne lounged on a chaise, flicking absently through a book. A fire roared in the grate, keeping out the bitter chill of October. The clock on the mantelpiece chimed eleven o’clock at night. Outside, carriage wheels clattered past the window.

  She glanced across at the others in the drawing room and wondered when she might be permitted to make her excuses and leave the Gilletts’ house. There were far more exciting exploits out there to enjoy. London was her oyster and yet, she was being kept in domestic drudgery. If she had wanted that, she would have stayed at her family’s Yorkshire estate.

  “Planning your escape, Lady Adelaide?” a voice murmured. She turned to see Jasper Fitzwilliam, Viscount Gillett, the only son of the Earl of Richmond, watching her closely.

  “And what if I am, Jasper?”
She mimicked his tone, flashing a mischievous smile. “As you see, my father is in deep discussion with yours, Miss Green is attempting to gain my mother’s favor, and your mother has already retired for the evening. Undoubtedly, out of utter tedium for the company and conversation herein.”

  Adelaide looked towards her dear father, Ephraim Colborne, the Earl of Leeds. He drank animatedly from a brandy snifter, whilst Jasper’s father, Milton Fitzwilliam, the Earl of Richmond, nodded uncertainly at everything being said.

  Adelaide smiled at the scene. No doubt, her father was discussing some new business endeavor. The Earl of Leeds had a passion for commerce, though his success did not always hit the mark. And most of the time, no one had any clue what he was talking about. Lord Richmond seemed to be enduring such a bout of confusion, at that very moment.

  Adelaide’s mother, the Countess of Leeds, on the other hand, seemed to be fielding the excitable chatter of Miss Leah Green. Adelaide liked the girl well enough, but a distance remained between them that had yet to be traversed. All her life, Adelaide had hoped to find a genuine confidante. Thus far, Jasper was the only one she felt she could speak freely with on most subjects. But, being short on close female friends, she kept Leah around, just in case true closeness blossomed.

  The problem was that a competitive streak existed between the two young ladies. Adelaide had power and wealth, and a way of wrapping anyone around her little finger. Leah had enthusiasm and a lack of responsibility. She did not have a title to lose if she put a foot wrong. In truth, Adelaide envied her somewhat for that. Not that she would ever admit such a thing to Leah herself.

  “You are so severe on your talent for conversation?” Jasper quipped.

  Adelaide flashed him a look, “You know very well that your mother finds me an absolute delight. Were she here, she would seek me out as the only worthy conversant in the room.”

  “Ah yes, I had forgotten how highly you place yourself above others.”

  “That is most untrue and deeply unfair of you to say, Jasper.” She gave him a hard stare, feeling stung. “As you see, I have been forced to retreat into the pages of a novel. Everyone seems perfectly occupied without me. I would not intrude where I am not needed, nor speak for the sake of speaking.”

  “Perhaps you might find the evening more interesting if you were to involve yourself, instead of slinking to the shadows like a petulant feline.”

  “And seek to interrupt your stolen words with dear Miss Green? I would never do such a thing,” Adelaide teased. She had noticed the way Jasper looked at Leah. It would take a blind man not to see how fond he was of the enthusiastic young lady.

  “I have not stolen any words with Miss Green,” he remarked stiffly. “She is here as your guest. She is no acquaintance of mine. Why should I have reason to steal conversation with her? There is no current affection between her and myself. Indeed, I hardly know her.”

  “Methinks the admirer doth protest too much,” Adelaide chuckled. “Indeed, methinks the admirer would very much like to get to know Miss Green better. Is that why you have come over to me, Jasper? Do you seek to make the poor girl green with envy?”

  He flushed furiously—a sight that amused and pleased Adelaide in equal measure. She knew there had long been a distant flirtation between Jasper and Leah. They were not closely acquainted, but their paths often crossed. Each season, they dabbled a little more. As Adelaide’s London home neighbored with that of Jasper and his family, whenever Leah was invited to visit, they invariably ended up bumping into one another. Adelaide had often teased Jasper that he likely watched from his window like a desperate sentinel.

  “I know you seek only to tease me, Lady Adelaide. I shall not rise to your taunts,” Jasper said coolly. “I might ask why you are so eager to make your exit, however? Is there a secret admirer lingering in the dark halls of the Assembly Rooms, awaiting your clandestine arrival?” His tone mocked her, but she did not care. He could mock all he liked.

  “Whom I choose to acquaint myself with is none of your concern. Though, if you must know, I seek only to find more stimulating entertainment. Why must I read and sit on the periphery of stuffy conversation when I might be dancing and conversing with the other shining young creatures of London?”

  “The delights of London society calling to you, are they?” he mused. “You know, they are naught but mere façade and performance. None of it is real—it is all a fantasy, created to amuse the young ladies and gentleman of our day.”

  “Perhaps fantasy is what I desire,” Adelaide shot back, arching an eyebrow. She chuckled at the sudden flush of his cheeks. She had a way of inducing men to heated discomfort. It was not a trait in herself that she always enjoyed, but she and Jasper had long been friends. She knew she could never induce him towards romantic thought. He was immune where other gentlemen were not. Indeed, a humorous understanding existed between them, perpetuating their mutual jest of one another.

  “If you do not enjoy these evenings with my family, why do you insist on partaking of them?”

  “I should never wish to appear rude,” she offered with a shy smile.

  He sighed in evident frustration, “Then, maybe you ought to make your excuses and leave?”

  “You see, now you agree—that is the only solution,” she said, chuckling softly. “Although I believe you have an ulterior motive. You wish me to leave so you might have the pleasure of Miss Green’s company, a little more intimately. My mother shall retire when I do. If I were to remove myself in such a manner, by the merest law of averages you would have to garner the courage to speak with Miss Green. Otherwise, she would be left quite alone. And then, who would appear to be the uncouth one?”

  “That is not why I am suggesting such a thing,” Jasper remarked sharply. “I would not see you in discomfort or boredom, that is all.”

  “Of course.” Playful amusement rippled from Adelaide’s words, “Ever the selfless knight, charging in on his white steed.”

  Jasper narrowed his sea-green eyes at her. “If you will not be serious, Lady Adelaide…”

  “Then what?” she interjected.

  “Then… perhaps, as we have both said, it would be best if you pursued your alternative endeavors.”

  “And I must have your permission, must I?”

  “Why must we do this, every time we meet? What is this constant dispute between us?” Jasper sighed wearily. “As children, you and I were dear friends. Our families have spent summers and winters in one another’s company. Where did this perpetual defensiveness come from?”

  Adelaide shrugged, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “I do not know what you speak of. As far as I am concerned, you and I remain the best of friends.”

  “You behave this way with all of your acquaintances?”

  “You have seen the way I interact with Miss Green. It is no different to the way I behave with you,” she paused. “Anyway, I thought you enjoyed our witty repartee? You once told me it brightened your days. Is it not what we have based the foundation of our acquaintance upon?”

  He made a small, strangled noise. “I had forgotten those words to you. Indeed, do not misunderstand, I do enjoy our jests when it is appropriate. It is the constancy that I struggle with. May we not sometimes be plain and pleasant with one another, as lifelong acquaintances ought to be?”

  It was Adelaide’s turn to blush, “I suppose we may.” She did not often feel embarrassed, but he had touched on a particularly sore subject. People often thought of her as aloof, mistaking shyness for loftiness. Jasper had never been one of those people. He had always known what lay beneath the sometimes-frosty surface. Truthfully, she had not realized her behavior irked him so. As her sole true friend, she did not wish him to find her obnoxious. Wounded pride lodged in her throat, preventing her from apologizing.

  “With regards to Miss Green, she fears your sincerity on occasion,” Jasper continued, oblivious to Adelaide’s distress. “I am well-versed in your irreverent ways, where she does not quite compreh
end your manner of teasing. She does not always know that your words are never cruelly intended.”

  “Ah, so she has been telling tales now, has she?” Adelaide replied defensively. It was her favored means of self-preservation, oft used when she felt backed into a corner.

  “Nothing of the sort.” Jasper leapt to Leah’s defense, “I mention it only so you may remedy any issue before it blossoms into something unpleasant. I should hate to see the two of you break up your friendship.”

  Adelaide smiled, “Why? In case she no longer visited and you no longer had reason to peer longingly from your window for her arrival?”

  “You see, this is what I speak of. This coldness. I do not understand it.”

  “You claim to understand my manner of jest, dear Jasper. Alas, it would appear you do not. I do not mean to seem cold in any way. Indeed, perhaps I ought to remedy the situation if she claims to feel troubled by me.” Another twist of remorse gripped her suddenly, prompting her to rise. As strange as their friendship was, Adelaide did not wish anyone to think her cruel. Least of all a well-meaning girl like Leah. She smoothed down the front of her ruby-red bombazine gown. The matching choker at her throat began to itch.