Duke In Disguise (The Stafford Sisters Book 1)

by G. L. Snodgrass

  “You will like the family estate,” he said just as the carriage hit a heavy rut, pulling her out of her deep contemplation. “Oakmont, in the south of Kent,” he added as if that was to mean anything to her.

  She smiled and nodded while her mind continued to try to decipher the man that was her husband.

  Several hours later, she was surprised when the coach pulled to a stop in front of a small palace. Twice the size of the Brookenham main house. The building looked as if belonged to a king.

  Not far off, she realized as she was once again reminded just how rich her husband was.

  “We keep a small staff,” he told her. “Mother never really enjoyed the country, and I am rarely here.”

  Again, she smiled as she nodded while more than a dozen people, footmen, maids, and other servants rushed to greet them. A small staff, she thought as she shook her head. The man had absolutely no idea what he was talking about.

  Once they had been welcomed and introductions had been made, they were escorted inside. Ann sighed, it was not her home. Well, it was, but it didn’t feel like hers. The ornate brass sconces. Each filled with a candle. The portraits of people she didn’t know. The servants whose names she would have trouble remembering. No, it didn’t feel like home.

  And the man had six more of these. The others wouldn’t be as big of course. Nor as ostentatious. But, even then, she would constantly feel out of place.

  A feeling of dread filled her. It was as if she were an actress on a stage. All the world watching her every move. Nowhere her own.

  Once they had been shown their rooms, the Duke informed her that they should dress for dinner. Several of the locals would be arriving for the meal.

  Ann smiled, dipped her head in acknowledgment and buried the worry and regret that bubbled inside of her.

  After dinner, Ann led the women into the parlor while the Duke remained behind to discuss business with the gentlemen.

  Of course, each of the ladies had a dozen questions. Everyone wanted to know how she had landed such a great catch as His Grace.

  She gave them the story that the Dowager had pounded into her head. It had been love at first sight. His Grace had insisted on a quick wedding. Each time she told the story she felt a small part of her soul melt away.

  Finally, the guests departed and it was just her and the Duke.

  “Did things go well?” she asked, obviously referring to his business dealings.

  He nodded. “Yes, there has been a bit of unrest. Soldiers returning. A rabble-rouser preaching equality. The revolutions in both America and France have changed the way people think about the world. Thankfully, the lessons from the French show us what happens when things are taken too far.

  “But it appears that for this area, there is nothing too significant. Not as bad as some of the other parts of the country.”

  Her stomach tightened. What would become of her world? This new world she had joined. Would it hold? Of course, it would, she told herself. This was England. Things would never change.

  He smiled down at her with a hungry look and her insides turned over. She knew that look. That was the look of a predator who had found what he was looking for. What is more, she thought as her very core became inflamed with need. That look was all it took and she was his.

  The next two estates were repeats of the first. They would arrive, hold a dinner. The Duke would spend the following day touring the lands. Discussing things with the tenants. Letting them know that he was involved in the running of the estate.

  “It is important that they are aware they can come to me if there is a problem,” he told her as they left his third estate. “They deal with my estate agent for almost everything. But they need to know that if necessary, they can come to me directly. Besides, it keeps each of my agents in line.”

  Ann nodded. She would never fully understand the ins and outs of being a duke. But she had learned that she could play the role of duchess. At least the Duke seemed to think so.

  The fourth estate was a marked change. A small manor, barely larger than the Brookenham cottage.

  As she stepped down from the carriage, she gave her husband a questioning look.

  He shrugged his shoulders. “My distant cousins live up at the main estate. I don’t like to bother them. They get so worried so easily.”

  Ann scoffed. Of course, they did. When your very home depended upon the kindness of others. Of course, it was worrisome.

  “Normally,” he continued with a frown as he looked at the building, “there is a caretaker and his wife. They knew we were arriving today.”

  Ann followed his glance. The house looked empty. The evening was approaching but no candles had been lit. They had to be aware of their arrival. The carriage and horse made more than enough noise. Yet, the door had not opened.

  The Duke turned to the footman at the rear of the coach and said, “Throw down the small case. Along with Her Grace’s bag, the small one I think.” Then turning to her he said, “They should be adequate, don’t you think?

  She could only nod. How was she to know what was adequate? Who would she be meeting? When, Where?

  The Duke smiled reassuringly to her then to the driver he said, “You and Jensen stay at the inn as we discussed. Return the day after tomorrow. But stay close to the Inn, I will send for you if I need you.”

  John the coachman pulled at his hat and said, “Yes, Your Grace.”

  As the coach pulled away, the Duke grabbed the bags and pounded on the front door. When no one answered, he opened it and stuck his head in, “Hello,” he called.

  When no one answered, Ann peeked over his should to see a dark and gloomy house. Clean, but unoccupied.

  The Duke glanced back at her and shrugged his shoulders. She smiled encouragingly as a sense of curiosity started to build inside of her.

  After he had stepped in, he took a flint and steel from a side table and lit a candle. Using it, he lit several more as they made their way into the house.

  Ann shivered. It was as if they were entering a tomb. Not a home. Especially not a duke’s home.

  Taking her hand, he led her deeper into the house. At any moment, Ann expected a spirit to jump from the shadows. But they met no one.

  When they reached the kitchen, he frowned as he opened the larder to find it stocked. Ann smiled to herself. Someone had taken time to make sure the things they would need were there. A ham, cheese, crock jars of preserves. Smoked meats, fresh vegetables. More than enough for the two of them.

  “I suppose we could go up to the main house,” he said with a deep frown.

  She scowled at him and pushed him towards the door.

  “Go light some fires. Make sure our room is ready.”

  “What are you going to do?” he asked with a frown.

  “Make your dinner,” she said with a large smile.

  Chapter Twenty

  The Duke of Norwich found himself sitting at the dining room table wondering what his wife was up to. The woman refused to let him come into the kitchen. Instead, he had spent the last hour tapping his fingers waiting.

  The house was empty, but everything had been left for them. The rooms were clean, the beds made. It was as if the caretakers had left but minutes before they arrived.

  Curious, but not disconcerting. There could be any of a dozen reasons.

  Sighing to himself, he returned to the book he had retrieved from his case.

  As he turned the page, the door opened and Ann backed in holding a tray. She had a white apron tied around her waist and a curl of hair had fallen to hang across her brow. Her flushed cheek was marred by a small hint of white powder where she had brushed at her face.

  The woman was perfect.

  She smiled hesitantly.

  “It took me forever to get the stove hot enough,” she said as she set the tray down in front of him.

  He frowned to find several meat pies. A bowl of cooked vegetables, and a parfay of cut fruit and jams.

  “You did all t
his?” he said in surprise. “You didn’t have to. I would have been perfectly all right with some meat and cheeses.”

  She frowned. “You don’t like it?”

  He winced, she looked like a little girl who had just had her best needlework criticized.

  “No, no, it looks wonderful.”

  She smiled again as she sat down and began to serve him.

  He continued to frown slightly until he took the first bite of a meat pie. He stopped and looked at her. “You can cook?”

  “Of course, I can,” she said as she loaded her own plate, but he could see the sense of pride in her eyes.

  “In fact, when we return home,” she said with a smile, “I do believe I am going to make the cook let me have a turn in the kitchen. For the first time in forever, I feel like I did something worthwhile.”

  He smiled at her as he took another bite. This is the true Ann, he realized. Someone who likes taking care of others.

  “Just don’t let my mother know. She would have a seizure.”

  Ann laughed.

  The two of them discussed their trip, London, her sisters. A quiet comfortable meal. Followed by hours of slow lovemaking. The kind that settled a man’s soul.

  The next morning, he was disappointed to find his bed empty. Grumbling to himself, he turned over only to find Ann coming into the room, again, carrying a large tray.

  “Breakfast, Your Grace,” she said as she set the tray down on a side table. “You need to hurry if you are going to visit all your tenants.”

  He frowned again, but then the sight of Ann bent over the table as she made adjustments to the tray made him smile. How could it not?

  The Duke rose from the bed and slipped into his robe. A gentleman did not eat his breakfast unclothed. England would fall if he did.

  She had prepared his eggs just as he liked them. Along with a rash of bacon, toast, and marmalade. The woman knew him better than he had realized.

  As he ate, he examined her across from him. Who was this woman? Really, who was she? He had thought of her as a simple country girl. Kind, sweet. But there was more he realized. She had taken to the world of being a duchess as if she were born to the role.

  He knew deep in his heart that she did not cherish the situation. Yet, she performed it so well. Her intelligence was obvious. Her ability to manage his life was remarkable. As was made obvious by the excellent breakfast before him.

  How many other women of the ton could have done this? Accepted an empty, gloomy house and so quickly turned it into a welcoming home. Truly remarkable, he thought as he spread the marmalade onto his toast.

  Later that day, as he said his goodbyes to a local farmer, he found himself missing Ann. It had only been hours, yet he wondered what she was doing. How was she filling her time while he was gone?

  Turning, he looked up the lane towards the village then back towards the small manor. To hell with it, he thought. He had seen enough to know that things were going well.

  His steps grew longer as he approached the house. Only to find Ann sitting on the back stoop, plucking a chicken.

  “What are you doing?” he asked her as he fought to hold back the rising shock.

  She smiled up at him. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t like feathers in my chicken stew.”

  He could only shake his head. Who was this woman and how had he been so lucky to find her?

  Sitting down next to her on the step, he watched her work. Her hands ripping away the feathers and putting them aside in a wooden bucket. He reached up to pull a stray feather from her hair.

  “Where did you get the chicken?” he asked.

  She frowned up at him, “The chicken coup, where else?” she said as she pointed around the corner of the house. “Did you think I snuck onto a neighbor’s farm and stole one of theirs?”

  He laughed. “I don’t know, if you were making an apple pie, perhaps.”

  She blushed prettily and returned to focusing on her task.

  “You are home early,” she said as she wiped her hands on her apron and stood up, a naked chicken in her hand.

  He nodded as he followed her into the kitchen, pulling up a stool to watch her work.

  Ann frowned for a moment then gave him a questioning glance, obviously trying to understand what he was up to. Of course, that would be impossible. He didn’t know himself. He just knew that it was much more interesting watching his wife prepare his dinner than it would be talking to some farmer in some muddy field.

  Shrugging her shoulders, she started carving up the chicken, then cutting vegetables. He watched as she worked and couldn’t help smiling to himself. There was something about watching a pretty woman cook for him. Especially when she bent over to throw another log into the stove.

  When she looked at him over her shoulder, he raised an eyebrow, smirking at her. She blushed, obviously reading his question. But instead, she shook her head while she pointed to the kitchen door with a wooden spoon.

  “Out,” she said.

  He laughed but didn’t move.

  “I mean it,” she added, “or you will have to go without dinner.”

  He smiled, “A price that I find very acceptable.”

  She blushed even more furiously as she pushed him out of the kitchen. “I mean it, Daniel, out.”

  Both of them froze for a second as they realized she had called him by his first name. Something she hadn’t done except in their bed, and even then, only when she exploded with pleasure.

  They looked into each other’s eyes as they both tried to understand the significance. Finally, she pulled herself together and pushed at him to leave.

  He smiled down at her, “Very well, Ann. I will do as you command. But believe me, you are only delaying the inevitable.”

  “At least we will have something to eat.”

  He laughed again as he left her as a sudden awareness washed over him. His wife was much more than he had ever anticipated.

  .o0o.

  Ann took a deep breath and forced her racing heart to slow down. She must be careful, she reminded herself. If he ever learned of her true feelings, he would wrap her around his little finger and she would be lost.

  No, that was not going to be allowed to happen, she thought as she returned to the stove.

  Yet, deep down, she feared that it had already happened. The man could simply look at her and she became a basket of pure need.

  Shaking her head, she started on the crust for the rhubarb pie.

  As she formed the dough, she couldn’t help but sigh. Her life was going well. Much better than she could ever have hoped for obviously. Most of the women in England would love to be in her position. A handsome Duke. People bowing and curtsying. And more money than she could ever spend.

  Yet, it felt wrong. If he had loved her, she might have believed she deserved it. But this? No, it wasn’t right. And heaven knew, it wouldn’t last.

  Sighing, she returned to fixing the meal. At least she had this, she thought with a smile. A few days where things almost felt normal. Just her and Daniel.

  Was this what her life would have been like if Daniel had been a simple farmer. She would spend all day preparing meals, or washing clothes. Eventually caring for their children. Teaching them. All the while waiting for him to return from the fields.

  Yes, this would have been her life, she realized. And who was to say it would have been worse than her new world. At least her husband would have loved her. The two of them working together to face the world.

  Instead, she was but an accompaniment to his life. It was the Duke who controlled everything. It was him and his title that provided her fancy gowns and helpful servants. It wasn’t something they had accomplished together.

  Later that night, as the Duke finished his last bite of pie, he smiled at her and leaned back.

  “You are going to have to show cook how to make a pie like that,” he said as he rubbed his stomach.

  Ann laughed and leaned forward, her chin on her hands, her elbows
on the table as she watched him. There was something about watching your man enjoy the food you had prepared for him. It sent a warmth through her entire body.

  He frowned slightly then said, “It is back to London tomorrow.”

  Her stomach fell. Already? Their time together would come to an end. A sudden fear jumped into the front of her mind. Did he regret their time away? Was there someone who he would have preferred?

  “I thought there was another estate?” she said as a sick feeling filled her.

  He shrugged. “I will visit it another time. It is north of London and out of our way.”

  She sighed heavily as she started gathering the dishes all the while she tried to push the sudden doubt away.

  He frowned as he took her hand, stopping her. “Ann?” he asked. “Don’t you want to go back to London?”

  She bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from telling him the truth. No, not really. Instead, she wished they could spend the rest of there lives right there in that house. She wouldn’t have to share him with businessmen, his mother, or the rest of society.

  It would be just the two of them. Not a cast of thousands.

  But, of course, she could never tell him that. He wouldn’t understand even if she did.

  Instead, she smiled sweetly and said, “It will be nice to return home.”

  He continued to frown for a second as if he didn’t fully believe her. But at last, he nodded and let her go.

  Ann swallowed hard. No, he must never learn of her discontent. He didn’t deserve that burden. Her life was a fairytale. Anything less than full appreciation for all he had given her was unbecoming.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Ann removed her gloves and bonnet before handing them to Stevenson.

  “Welcome back, Your Grace,” the butler said to her with a kind smile. “You were truly missed.”

  “What?” the Duke said as he removed his hat and coat. “I wasn’t missed?”

  Stevenson frowned at him for a moment then shook his head and said, “No, Your Grace. In all honesty. I don’t believe you were.”