The Duke's Second Chance: Clean Regency Romance (Lords for the Sisters of Sussex Book 1)

by Jen Geigle Johnson

  They pulled in front of a modest looking townhome, much grander than Amelia would ever imagine living in, but not so grand by half as that of the duke. As those are the only homes Amelia had to compare, she thought her grandparents quite pleasantly situated.

  “We share a park block with the homes you see on our sides and behind. A courtyard in the middle.”

  “Oh lovely.”

  “Perhaps we shall take a turn after tea.”

  “Yes, I would enjoy that very much.”

  “Your grandfather will be pleased to hear it as he spends a great deal of time tending it, pestering the gardeners and reading there himself.”

  He sounded lovely. The longer she was in her grandmother’s company the more relaxed she felt.

  The footman helped her down and within two steps, a giant of a man, looked to be quite a bit older than her father, came bounding down the steps and stood in front of her. “Amelia? Could this be our baby Amelia?”

  Amelia laughed and curtseyed. “My lord.”

  “Oh tosh. Who stands by ceremony with family? Come here.” He held out his arms and when she tentatively stepped into his offered embrace, he squeezed her close. But his hands were gentle, questioning and when she stepped back, his eyes, misty. “Thank you for coming.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  He led them into the house which was comfortable and fine. Before she had time to think much else, they were seated, and the servants were setting out tea.

  “Would you mind pouring, my dear? My hands shake so, I find it better to let the younger ladies do the honors.”

  “Certainly.” Amelia smiled. Tea was a simple enough request. She poured and stirred, and placed biscuits and sandwiches on trays without thinking much about it.

  When they each had their plates and tea just as they wished it, her grandfather leaned back in his seat. “I can’t tell you have pleased I am to have you here in our home.”

  He nodded. They both replaced cups on their saucers. “When you grow older you realize more poignantly what you truly love. And we wish for you to be a part of our lives.”

  She stared back in wonder and surprise. “Truly?”

  “We’ve wished such a thing for years. Almost as soon as your mother left.”

  “But haven’t you been writing mother?”

  “We have, and …” She raised her hands.

  Then her grandmother leaned forward, shook her head at her husband and said, “I suggest we be open. There are some things that we aren’t really proud of and others that are just the reality of our lives and must be understood.”

  “I’d like for you to be honest with me.”

  “When your mother ran away to get married to someone from an entirely different class, it caused a scandal the likes of which we’d never seen.”

  “To protect us all, your mother included, the family ran away to the country and completely disappeared from society. Even from our lives. They thought that if they disappeared for long enough, people would forget, and it worked, we didn’t even know they’d returned, or set up the tea shop for many years.”

  Her grandfather shook his head and patted her hand. “To think we didn’t even know our grand-daughter was but a few streets over.”

  “But how did you finally discover me?”

  “Your father.”

  “What?”

  “Yes, he reached out and let us know, said he thought it was for the best, if we wanted to be a part of your life.”

  Her grandmother clasped her hands together. “Which of course we do want to be a part of your life.”

  “We want that more than anything else.” Her grandfather rubbed his eyes. “When I think of all the years we’ve missed…”

  “And my father?”

  “Your father?”

  “Why isn’t he invited to come have tea?”

  The pause grew more uncomfortable the longer it lasted. “He’s from outside our world. He understands that.”

  Amelia felt a strange, awkward sort of pain divide her in two.

  “We’d like to sponsor you, for a season.”

  “What?”

  “Yes, and give you everything you should have had if your mother had married within her station.”

  “I-I don’t know.”

  “Please, allow us this one thing. Allow us to make up for all the lost time.”

  “But what of my station, those who will recognize me, from the tea room. Won’t the scandal you’ve all been avoiding blow up?”

  “We don’t think so. We’ve some powerful women on our side with this. Friends of your grandmother’s. And of course you must stop working in the tea room.”

  “And your grandfather is highly respected.” She leaned forward. “There are many who will welcome you out of love and respect for our family.” Her eyes widened hopefully.

  “Well, of course, if you put it that way.”

  She clapped her hands, smile growing. “I’d love to start on your wardrobe right away. Do you have time tomorrow to visit the modiste?”

  What! A real modiste. This was starting to sound like one of those stories in the books her mother kept.

  Even after telling her father all about the visit, she couldn’t quite believe what was happening to her. “Why didn’t you tell me all of this sooner?”

  Her father shook his head. “Because we honestly believed there would never come a time you would need to know, that we would never feel it important to find that old way of life again. We thought it was better for all involved.”

  “But now?”

  “Now, I’m getting weaker.”

  Her next words caught in her throat. She knew. She’d noticed, of course. Whatever ailed him was taking over more and more of his body.

  “And why don’t you come with me?”

  “It wouldn’t be fitting.”

  “I don’t see how you can feel that way. Mother loved you, their own child. You are the father of their granddaughter…”

  He held up his hands. “You don’t understand because we haven’t raised you to think in the same manner that they think, but this is for the best. It is better for you as well, if I’m not a part of your coming out, or your new life in the ton.”

  “Not a part of my life?”

  “Of course I’m always your father.” Her father’s head started to droop and his eyes close.

  “Go, I’ll clean up.”

  He creaked to his feet. “Thank you daughter. I’m happy they want to be a part of your life. They’ll be better off just for knowing you.”

  She kissed his cheek. “Good night, father. They’d be better off knowing you as well.”

  He waved to her as he left the kitchen and climbed the stairs as though the weight of their concerns rested in each shoe.

  While Amelia wiped down tables and then swept the floor, the whole of her interaction at her grandfather’s home replayed in her mind. A season. She’d often imagined herself wearing her mother’s beautiful clothes, dancing the dances she’d taught her, curtseying before the handsome lords and whirling around the dance floor. Could this be happening?

  Without her mother. Just the thought lowered the corner of her mouth. She missed her mother with an ache that found no relief. And she would miss her abominably as she heard her name announced to a ballroom full of people.

  She couldn’t see her mother in her grandmother. Or her grandfather. Perhaps she looked like an aunt. She’d like to see the portrait gallery next time she visited.

  The door creaked open, and she remembered she hadn’t locked up yet. As she rounded the back, to see who had come in, she stopped and smiled. “Hello.”

  Her duke stood in the middle of the floor, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

  “Well, come in.”

  He approached. “I did it.”

  “Did what”

  “Proposed.”

  “I know.”

  “How could you know?”

  “Lord Morley stopped by to tell me.”


  “Did he now?” His mouth frowned for a moment but then he said, “Can we sit?”

  “Yes, of course, would you like some tea?”

  “Not tonight. You’ve already washed up.”

  So she joined him. Sat at a table with him, no tea, not a biscuit in sight. And it felt odd, and strangely liberating at the same time.

  When he didn’t say anything for the first few moments, she asked, “Are you happy?”

  Then he snorted. And held his head in his hands. “Oh, I’ve made the biggest muck of things, and neither Lord Morley nor I have any idea what to do about it.” He looked up. “That is, we have an idea, but I’ve put myself in the biggest bind, even bigger than the one I thought I was entrapping myself in.”

  “This sounds ominous. Surely it isn’t as terrible as you say.”

  “Worse. For not only am I well and truly engaged to Lady Rochester, but she’s also well and truly losing her mind.”

  “What?” Surely he jested. But his expression remained deadly serious.

  And she waited while he explained the whole of his dealings with Lady Rochester.

  “We are travelling down towards Brighton, for we’ve a home there she could stay in, with her own staff, to keep herself safe and, honestly, far from us. Her brother thought it the best idea.”

  “And you’re to stay engaged?” She felt most distraught about that piece of news. Though she had no right to be.

  “Yes. I’m well and truly flummoxed. What shall I do?”

  “I don’t see how you can escape the engagement without scandal. But…”

  “Yes?” He leaned forward, clearly hanging on her every word.

  “But does it matter?”

  “Matter?”

  “Right. Is not your happiness worth more to you than your reputation?”

  He sat back and looked at her as though she spoke another language entirely. “Worth more than my reputation? Of course not.”

  She nodded and tilted her head, trying to understand. “Then I guess you will stay affianced until your happiness is contested, and you must make a different choice to retrieve it.”

  He adjusted his hand so that it rested on the table close to hers. Then he leaned forward so that he could look deeply into her eyes. “I love listening to you speak. Your ideas are so refreshing. You see things, unfettered. Naively impossible, but refreshing.”

  “Naively impossible? I wonder why you seek my thoughts if you discount them so readily.”

  “No, you are not discounted. On the contrary, I’m desperately trying to imagine a time when I could throw my reputation to the wind and seek only my happiness.” He shrugged. “It is the burden of being a duke to never truly consider such a thing.”

  “Then I pity every person of title, desperately grasping to rise higher and most jealously clinging to what little manner of elevation they’ve managed to gain through birth alone.” She knew her words were fueled by the events of this morning, but she couldn’t seem to stem the flow of words exiting her mouth.

  But instead of being offended, the duke’s eyes shown with admiration and he reached for her hand.

  Warm thrills travelled up her arm from where he cradled her fingers in his palm. He turned over her hand and ran one finger from her wrist to the tip of her finger. “You are a fascination to me. The things you say, none of my acquaintance says. I would wager they’ve never considered. Thank you for listening, for saying such refreshing things. When I sit here with you, I feel as though I am free of societal restraint. And complex things in my life become clear. That is a gift.” Her turned her hand over and brought her knuckle to his lips. They were soft, a velvety smooth pressure right on the back of her hand. She fought the urge to bring it up to her face afterward.

  “Thank you.”

  Had she thanked a duke for kissing the back of her hand?

  But he seemed not to notice her awkward reaction but only bowed his head and stood. “It is I who thank you.”

  She watched his retreating form until it disappeared into the darkness. Then she sat for many hours, staring after him, her mind on him and so many other things, she knew sleep would elude her. The one thought that struck in great waves of astonishment. Were she to present herself and come out for a season, there was the tiniest breath of a chance the duke could be hers. And that thought barreled through her with such a force, she imagined she’d never think another again.

  11

  Gerald wasn’t sure how today was going to go. But he’d learned that in the case of Lady Rochester, he couldn’t simply hand her off to the servants, but he must be involved personally. And her brother as well. Gerald’s carriage arrived in front of her home. Her brother met him at the door.

  “She is in the library. And thinks we are going on holiday to Brighton. With Your Grace.”

  “And she’s not mistaken. Except for the part about me being involved much longer than dropping off and getting her situated. Hopefully she will be happy.” Gerald adjusted his cravat.

  “I imagine so. Most of the time. When she has her fits, the staff will be there to help manage, and when she’s normal, she will have a lovely home and people to care for her.” His eyes, full of sincerity, he turned to Gerald. “Thank you. I cannot stomach dear Francis in Bedlam.”

  “Certainly. I have tenants nearby as well. Perhaps I’ll engage them to simply be aware.” The new family of daughters he’d inherited might be useful after all. He’d meet them today, after he left Lady Rochester.

  Lady Rochester exited the house before they had stepped down from the carriage. And she seemed to be in the highest spirits. She even thanked the footman. Her brother seemed satisfied with the arrangement also. Gerald was much relieved. Even though he was strapped to an engagement that would never turn into a marriage, he had rid himself of being forced to marry such a woman. And she was far from his staff and most importantly, his son.

  The journey was overly long and seemed laborious. Lady Rochester in a good mood almost grated on Gerald’s nerves as much as the woman in a state of emotional fits. What had he been thinking, that he could marry a person and never see her? Not be a part of her life? He was obviously not thinking. His mouth turned in a small smile. Miss Amelia had been correct. He had needed time before he made any radical decisions.

  They arrived at the house after what felt like a lifetime of travel. The house was quaint and in good repair, away from the major thoroughfare.

  Lord Morley clapped his hands. “Oh, but this is lovely. Let’s have a look inside, shall we?”

  “Oh yes.” Lady Rochester turned to Gerald. “I do think this quite appropriate. We both need some time away, I’d imagine, time to recover and accustom to things.”

  “Mm. Yes.”

  The housekeeper, Mrs. Lester, met them at the door. And as expected, she seemed on the larger side, more strong than anything. The footmen also. But everyone had an aura of goodness and one footman especially seemed cheerful even and willing to work to keep Lady Rochester happy. Gerald nodded. “Shall we sit in the front room?”

  Lady Rochester nodded. “Yes, Mrs. Lester, could we have some tea brought?”

  “Certainly.”

  The servants brought Lady Rochester’s things upstairs while they sipped and talked of the good weather they had driving down.

  Lady Rochester smiled and leaned back in her chair. “I don’t imagine we’ll need much at all here even as far as society. I find I’m quite pleased with the house.”

  Her brother smiled and squeezed her hand in his own. “I’m happy to hear it. And his grace has tenants who live nearby.”

  She wrinkled her nose.

  “They’re very well connected tenants, remember the distant family of the peerage, the very ones we were discussing.”

  “Ah, well good then. Perhaps I shall entertain them here.”

  “They might enjoy that, some superior attention would do them well.” Her brother knew how to make Lady Rochester preen with self-importance, something Gerald could not
abide.

  He stood. “I think I shall go about the business of paying a call on my tenants, if you give me leave.” He bowed.

  They rose and curtseyed or bowed in return. “Would you like some company?” Lady Rochester’s voice trailed away, and Gerald knew with relief that she had no desire to attend with him.

  “No, I am perfectly happy to attend to matters of my estate.” He bowed again and then exited the room and the home. He had no intention of returning. Her brother knew it. Lady Rochester did not. Hopefully she would be left in a stable, secure, and enjoyable situation.

  The road opened up again as soon as he travelled further away from the cottage. And when he joined the main thoroughfare, he felt his breath coming easier. The sky was wide and blue and the air crisp with a coolness that soothed. He left some of the weight of his poor decisions and almost catastrophic move to marry someone of the likes of Lady Rochester, and began to hum with curiosity about this family of ladies.

  He had written to expect him sometime this week. And when he pulled in, he was happily surprised to see staff and perhaps the ladies themselves standing on the front stoop to greet him. Their cottage sat just a small ways off the main thoroughfare. He’d heard that many a noble stopped to see them on their way to Brighton.

  They were a lovely bunch, gifted with remarkable looks. Their dresses seemed worn but in the current style, their hair comely. Absolutely well-bred and of gentle birth. His footman opened the door, and when he stepped out and bowed, he was more than pleased at their elegant greeting in response.

  He stepped forward. “And who do I have the pleasure of greeting? I am the Duke of Granbury.”

  The woman closest to him smiled at him and he was pleased to see good humor in her eyes. “Ah, the man so lucky to have inherited a dilapidated old castle and a family of sisters to go along with it?”

  He coughed. “Well, I would never phrase it in such a manner.”

  Her eyebrow rose.

  “But yes, you have the right of it.”

  A young girl stepped forward. “Have you seen the castle yet, Your Grace?” The youngest daughter seemed to be quite possibly not out of the school room. She might have been fourteen.