To Marry a Duke

by Fenella J Miller

  TO MARRY A DUKE

  By

  Fenella J Miller

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any method, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of The Author - Fenella J. Miller

  Bride for a Duke Copyright Fenella J. Miller, 2012

  This e-Book is a work of fiction. While references may be made to actual places or events, the names, characters, incidents, and locations within are from the author’ s imagination and are not a resemblance to actual living or dead persons, businesses, or events. Any similarity is coincidental.

  (Originally published as The Mésalliance)

  This book is for

  My husband

  Dusty

  Thanks to Susan Rhodes for her support and vigilance.

  Prologue

  July 1811

  The Duke of Colchester opened the carved box and removed the duelling pistol. He checked it was loaded, primed and slowly raised it to his right temple and pulled the trigger. He slumped lifeless across the desk and the blood pooled under his shattered face.

  Lady Allegra Humphry was on the way back from her evening stroll in the inner courtyard when she heard a shot. Her eyes widened. She spun, picked up her skirts and ran towards the open window.

  Her screams of anguish echoed around the garden. Thomas Smith, the head coachman who had been standing outside the harness room was the first to arrive at her side. As a man of medium height he was forced to crane his head to see past Lady Allegra. Grim faced he reached up and pushed the window shut.

  ‘Come away, my lady, there is nothing you can do.’

  She was no longer screaming but the silence was worse. Her blue eyes were huge, her face bloodless. Thomas slipped his arm around her waist. A small group of outside staff stood gaping at the sight of their young mistress cradled in the arms of the head coachman.

  ‘Ben, run inside and fetch Miss Murrell and Mrs Wright. Bill, you get Mr Digby, he was working in the estate office earlier, try there first.’ Thomas scowled at the other three. ‘Get back to your duties; this has naught to do with you.’ Touching their caps, they backed away. They knew when they were not wanted.

  Two women appeared from around the corner. Miss Murrell, Lady Allegra’s companion, arrived first.

  ‘Here, Thomas, let me take her ladyship from you.’

  ‘Yes, madam.’

  Mrs Wright, her face red, her plump cheeks glistening placed her arm around Allegra’s waist.

  ‘Come along, my dear, one foot in front of the other, we will soon have you safe in your bed,’ Miss Murrell crooned.

  ‘It’s the ague; this damp weather we’ve been having makes it worse,’ Mrs Wright said.

  Miss Murrell noticed Thomas hovering beside them. ‘Off you go now. Lady Allegra doesn’t

  need you anymore.’

  ‘She’s not poorly, Miss Murrell, she’s had a mortal bad shock.’ Both women froze, the slender form hanging almost comatose between them, waiting to hear the rest. ‘His grace—he’s gone and killed himself. Her ladyship must have heard the shot and she saw him in the study.’

  Miss Murrell recovered first. ‘That was unfortunate but it is too late to repine. We must deal with things as they stand.’ She nodded briskly to the housekeeper who was now as pale as their charge. The two middle-aged ladies half carried Lady Allegra inside.

  Mr Digby, the estate manager, when informed of the situation understood at once what had to be done. ‘Thomas, did anyone apart from yourself see into the study?’

  ‘No, sir, I stood in front. All they saw was me holding her ladyship. That was shock enough, I can tell you.’

  ‘Excellent. Let it be known she saw the duke had collapsed at his desk. No one must ever suspect the truth, you do understand that?’

  ‘I do, sir. Will I go to London and fetch back Lord Witherton. I mean, his grace?’

  ‘Yes, travel post.’ Mr Digby rummaged in the pocket of his tweed jacket and extracted a small cloth purse. ‘There’s more than enough here. I’ll have a change of horses waiting at Chelmsford. His grace will no doubt wish to drive himself back.’

  Lady Allegra was half carried to her apartment. ‘Come along, my dear, into bed with you. I have something here to help you sleep. Things will seem better in the morning,’ Miss Murrell said.

  Obediently the young woman opened her mouth and swallowed the thick syrup. ‘Close your eyes, my dear. I promise you will not have nightmares. The poppy syrup will ensure you have a peaceful, dreamless sleep.’

  Lord Richard Witherton, the new Duke of Colchester, returned the next day his father’s funeral was held less than six months after a similar service for his mother. The staff and village believed the shock and grief he felt at his wife’s death had caused the old duke to suffer an apoplexy. His suicide had been well disguised.

  Chapter One

  April 1812

  Richard looked across at his sister. ‘Are you sure you wish to go ahead with the dinner party this evening, you looked fagged to death.’

  Allegra stiffened. ‘Thank you, Richard, it is always good to know one looks one’s best.’

  ‘Don’t fly up into the boughs, Allegra, I’m worried about you. You still have dark circles under your eyes, but you look, as always, truly lovely. And that new gown is most flattering.’

  She relaxed a little. ‘Oh, do you like it? I had this cambric made up especially for today. The opals you gave me for our last name day reflect the colour admirably.’ She glanced down at her ensemble. ‘Do you think it is too soon to be wearing lavender?’

  ‘Absolutely not! Good God, you were in black for Mama for six months before Papa died. Fifteen months is long enough to be walking around like a crow.’

  Allegra was not impressed. ‘The fact that you’re my twin does not give you leave to insult me, Richard. So far this morning you have told me I look fagged to death and that I look like a crow.’

  Richard grinned, unrepentant. ‘But I also said you look lovely and I like your new gown.’ His smile faded. ‘Are you still not sleeping, Allegra?’

  She changed the subject. ‘How are you intending to spend the day, Richard?’

  He sauntered across to the mullioned window through which the pale April sunlight filtered. ‘Gideon and I are riding to Colchester this morning. Do you wish to accompany us?’

  Allegra shook her head. The attentions of Captain Gideon Pledger, an old school friend of her brother’s, were becoming decidedly irksome. ‘If Captain Pledger is well enough to complete a

  ride of almost thirty miles why has he not returned to his regiment in Spain?’

  ‘It’s his damned shoulder. The wound’s still festering and he cannot return until it’s healed.’

  Her mouth pursed. ‘Pray, spare me the details, Richard. Well, let us hope he soon recovers and is able to leave. His visit has been over long already.’

  ‘He’s a pleasant fellow, Allegra, and he’s a good friend to me.’ Her eyebrows arched and he grinned. ‘He’s a trifle wild but there’s no real harm in him. I swear rusticating down here since last July would have become unbearable without him here to keep me company.’

  She had discussed the captain quite long enough. ‘I shall see you tonight, Richard. I trust you will be ready in time to greet our guests. Remember we are celebrating a quarter-century together; it is a significant occasion.’

  ‘Don’t fuss, Allegra, we’ll be back in good time.’

  He strode out, not a care in the world, his shoulders unbowed by estate business or household concerns. Assuming the title had not changed him one iota. He had merely continued his heedless existence, gambling, whoring, and driving all
over the Essex countryside instead of London and its environs.

  He was her twin and she loved him dearly, but she wished he would take more interest in their affairs. She frowned. Why had the lawyers not come to visit since that horrible day last July? She shuddered as she recalled it.

  A polite tap on the door heralded the arrival of her companion, and former governess, Miss Grace Murrell. ‘Come in, Miss Murrell. I was about to ring for coffee. Would you care to join me?’

  ‘I will, thank you. I have the menu for tonight; do you wish to see it, my dear?’

  ‘No, I am sure you have arranged it all perfectly. I am still unconvinced holding a party, however small, is not unseemly when we are still in half mourning.’

  ‘Nonsense, my love. We couldn’t allow such an important anniversary to pass unremarked. You have only invited close friends, after all.’

  Allegra wrinkled her nose. ‘I would hardly call Lady Arabella Grierson and her new husband, intimates, Miss Murrell. Nor young Edward Grierson and his feather-brained sister, Emily.’

  ‘They are, my dear girl, the only acquaintances you have down here. I have always said you are far too particular. Lady Arabella is the daughter of an earl.’

  Allegra shrugged. ‘But he is only the fifth earl; they do not trace their line back to Edward the Confessor, as we do.’

  ‘That’s as may be, my love. As you know, I’ve always thought your refusing to even consider any man below the rank of duke has left …’ she paused obviously unwilling to say what she felt.

  ‘Has left me at my last prayers? A spinster with five and twenty years in her dish and no prospects of a match?’

  Miss Murrell smiled. ‘I’m certain that, had your dear mother not been so ill and you had been able to have a third season, you would have found someone who suited you. You’re a lovely young woman with an impeccable pedigree. You should be spoilt for choice.’

  Allegra stared critically at her reflection in the pier gilt mirror hanging over the mantel. ‘I agree my eyes are unusual—periwinkle-blue is not a common colour, but my hair is too pale to be fashionable and I do not have the requisite ringlets. Also I am too thin and too tall.

  ‘I apologize for being so abrupt. I do not mean to be but I am tired all the time. I do not believe I have had a natural night’s rest since…since last July. As soon as my eyes close I am visited by the most horrible nightmares.’ She paused, knowing what her mentor was thinking. ‘I should not resort to laudanum but it is the only rest I get. One cannot survive without sleep.’

  ‘It’s addictive. It should be used only in extreme circumstances. I don’t consider lack of sleep, Lady Allegra, to be such a one.’

  Allegra drew breath to reply but was prevented by a sharp knock on the drawing-room door. She ignored it knowing Miss Murrell would deal with the interruption.

  Yardley, the elderly butler, stepped in.

  ‘Forgive me, your ladyship, but there are two gentlemen here to see you and his grace.’ He held out the heavily embossed silver salver on which rested a thick cream rectangle. Allegra removed it with distaste. She had no wish to see anyone and especially not two unknown gentlemen.

  She scanned the card and her nostrils flared. ‘Lord Witherton will not be back until late afternoon. Yardley, have Mr Evans and his companion placed in the small drawing-room. Make sure they have all they require and explain the circumstances. If they do not care to wait then they must return another day.’

  The butler bowed and reversed from the room. As soon as they were private she turned to Miss Murrell, her face flushed. ‘I believe it is good news, Miss Murrell; I remember Papa telling Richard and me, when we achieved our majority, that we would receive a substantial sum on this particular name day.’ She clapped her hands and whirled like a schoolgirl sending her skirt swirling indecorously. ‘I am to be an independent woman. I shall no longer be obliged to go cap in hand for pin money to Richard or anyone else. I think as soon as this wretched war is over I shall travel, go exploring. Will you come with me?’

  The day passed and Allegra forgot about the two lawyers waiting in the small drawing-room. Her head was full of preparations and plans for the first social gathering to be held at St Osyth’s Priory for over four years. She was in her private sitting-room upstairs when Richard barged in. She frowned.

  ‘You stink of the stable, Richard. Please do not come to me without changing your attire.’

  ‘Stow it, Allegra! We’ve lawyers to speak to. I gather they’ve been here all day. If we don’t see them now we’ll be obliged to offer them a bed for the night and invite them to dine with us.’

  ‘God forefend! I am coming. Did you expect them to come today, Richard?’

  ‘No, but I’m eager to hear what they have to say. I’ve pockets to let and could do with a deal more blunt.’

  They crossed the long, draughty blue corridor, which even with a substantial fire left burning all day remained unpleasantly cool. Allegra shivered and drew her wrap closer, glad she had decided to wear her heavy silk evening gown for the party.

  A footman flung open the door to the small drawing-room. Yardley announced them with suitable formality.

  ‘His grace, the Duke of Colchester, Lord Witherton and Lady Allegra Humphry.’

  Allegra followed her brother, prepared to be gracious in spite of the inconvenience of the visit. Richard bowed to the smaller, more rotund of the two gentlemen. She recognized him as Evans, the family lawyer. Who the other, hatchet faced, individual was she had no notion.

  ‘We most sincerely beg your pardon for the unconscionable time you have been kept waiting, sirs. If you had given us due warning of your visit I would, naturally, have been here to greet you this morning.’

  Evans bowed. ‘We’ve been well looked after, I thank you, your grace. Now we can begin. Lady Allegra, if you would care to be seated?’

  She would not, but with compressed lips sailed across the handsome, blue French carpet and settled gracefully into a walnut armchair. Richard propped himself against the window and folded

  his arms. She waited expectantly to hear the good news. Evans turned nervously to his companion.

  ‘This is Mr Southey, he is—’

  ‘Thank you, Evans. I’ll take it from here,’ the man rudely interrupted. He glared, first at Richard, then at Allegra. She swallowed. This was not as it should be. Why did this obnoxious man need to speak with them?

  ‘I’ll be candid. It’s the only way I deal. Your father gambled your heritage away. He didn’t die for love but because he was at point non plus. The present owner of the Priory has, out of the goodness of his heart, allowed you to remain in ignorance of these unpalatable facts, to continue spending his money as if it was water, until he reckoned you were recovered from your grief.’ He glared at them both. ‘As you’re holding a party tonight you’ve obviously moved on and are no longer in mourning.’

  Allegra recovered the power of speech. ‘But our settlements? The money from our mother’s estate, surely we still have that?’

  The monster shook his head. ‘Nothing left. All gone. My employer holds the deeds to the estate, all of it. You are destitute. You’ve been living on his charity long enough. It’s time you learnt the harsh realities of life; discovered what it’s like to be hungry, to have to work for your living like ordinary folks do.’

  Richard found his voice. This was reed thin. ‘How long do we have?’

  ‘Until the end of the month. Then you’ll vacate these premises.’ His lips curled. ‘And don’t think you can carry away the furniture and fittings. All you can take are your clothes and your jewellery.’ He snorted angrily. ‘You’d not even have that if I had my way.’ He nodded to Evans whose eyes glittered damply in the candlelight. ‘I’ll wait outside for you, Evans. You’ll not be long.’

  Chapter Two

  Evans wrung his hands. ‘This is a black day. A black day indeed. Have you much jewellery, Lady Allegra?’

  ‘None that I would sell. They are mostly priceless heirlo
oms that have been in our family for hundreds of years.’

  ‘For God’s sake, Allegra. It’s too late for such niceties. You heard the man, we’re all but penniless. This is not the time for scruples.’

  ‘How can you say so? Remember who we are, Richard.’

  ‘Who are we? We’ll be nothing without the Priory. We have to have funds in order to find somewhere to live, to pay our bills.’

  Hysteria bubbled inside her. She needed to escape from this nightmare. How could Richard dismiss it so calmly - their lives were over, couldn’t he see that? She pushed herself upright, her movements that of an old woman. ‘I am going to my room. I cannot deal with this now.’

  She stumbled upstairs, her remaining strength focused on reaching the privacy of her chamber and swallowing sufficient laudanum to send her into the sweet darkness she desperately needed.

  Her dresser, Abbot, took one look at her face and sent a chambermaid running for Miss Murrell.

  *

  Downstairs, Richard turned away and leant his face against the coolness of the leaded window, trying to make sense of what had happened. Half an hour ago he had been rich, master of all he surveyed; now he was just another impecunious aristocrat.

  ‘Evans, who owns St Osyth’s Priory now?’

  ‘A businessman from Cornwall, Mr Jago Tremayne. He has tin mines, manufactories and ships; he is as rich as Croesus.’

  Richard was impressed. ‘He could have thrown us out after the funeral. We must, I suppose, be grateful he allowed us the extra nine months.’

  ‘Indeed you must, your grace. I don’t know of any other man who would have done the same. Have you any idea how much you and Lady Allegra have spent since last July?’

  Richard shook his head. Such matters had never concerned either of them. There had always been ample to sustain their extravagant lifestyle. The estate included several villages as well as gravel pits, a brick yard, timber and dozens of well-run farms to support it.