A Beauty for the Scarred Duke: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Bridget Barton

  “It is, but I promise you there will come a day when you will look at him and not even see it. You have only to give him a chance, and that is all.” There was wisdom in Kitty’s thin, lined face, and it gave Isabella a feeling of safety.

  However, despite her polite smiles and nods, Isabella could not for a moment imagine ever looking upon that face and not seeing the scars. How could one look upon such devastation and not see it?

  For a moment, Isabella was almost overcome with the desire to find out exactly what had happened to the Duke of Coldwell. She almost asked the maid outright before stopping herself, knowing that her curiosity at such a time was truly inappropriate.

  “Have you worked here at Coldwell Hall for a long time, Kitty?” Once again, Isabella deftly changed the subject.

  “Longer than I care to remember, Your Grace.” Kitty chuckled as she made her way to a great mahogany dresser and opened one of the drawers. “I have been here more than thirty years since His Grace was nothing but a boy.”

  “Then you must be very happy here, Kitty.”

  “I could not imagine being more settled anywhere else. But perhaps that is because I do not know anything else anymore. I was but one and twenty when I first came here as lady’s maid to the last Duchess, His Grace’s mother.”

  “You had done well to have such a position by that age, Kitty.”

  “I had always wanted to be a lady’s maid; to fix a fine lady’s hair and attend to her wardrobe. When I first came to Coldwell Hall, it was my dream come true.” She turned from the dresser holding an immaculately white nightgown.

  She seemed to have drifted off into thoughts of the past, to the days when she was a busy lady’s maid to a fine Duchess.

  “How wonderful,” Isabella said as she tried to find some normality in the conversation.

  “But it has been more than eighteen years since I have been able to undertake my old duties,” Kitty spoke sadly.

  “I am terribly sorry.” Isabella realized that that must surely have been when the old Duchess had died.

  Of course, she did not think she ought to ask for any further details until she had come to know Kitty Smith a little better. She was still so very out of sorts and most uncomfortable to be living in Coldwell Hall that she did not want to alienate her potential ally.

  “Perhaps when you come to think about your own lady’s maid, Your Grace, you might consider me?” Kitty said a little shyly. “I realize that I am not a young woman anymore, but I have kept myself well informed of the current fashions and hairstyles.”

  “I should be very pleased, Kitty,” Isabella said genuinely. “After all, you have done much to put me at my ease on a most difficult day.”

  “I know it is difficult for you, Your Grace.” Kitty laid the beautiful nightgown out over the foot of the bed. “But things will settle down, I promise you. All will be well.”

  As Kitty spoke, Isabella could feel her warmth. It was almost as if everything truly would be well, despite the fact that Isabella could see no evidence of it.

  “Kitty, is my father still here?” The sudden thought made Isabella sit bolt upright, her pillows tumbling left and right behind her and her head throbbing painfully.

  “I am afraid he is not, Your Grace,” Kitty said, and Isabella could see the hint of disapproval in the woman’s eyes. It was disapproval that made Isabella warm to her all the more.

  “If I were to hazard a guess, Kitty, I would say that my father was already stepping back into his carriage as I lay unconscious on the flagstones of the chapel.” Isabella heard the bitterness.

  “I could not say, Your Grace. The Duke and Mr Maguire brought you straight over to the hall. His Grace carried you himself.” Kitty smiled as if the idea was most romantic. “And then he sent immediately for the physician. There was much hustle and bustle, and I cannot say that I saw your father in the hall at any point.”

  “Quite so; my own experience tells me that I ought not to have assumed that he would have waited long enough to discover if I was even to live.” Isabella’s voice faltered, and she felt suddenly tearful and extremely sorry for herself.

  It was not that she missed her father, nor even did she want him there. It was just the idea that she was genuinely uncared for in this world. At least uncared for by anybody who could do anything to preserve her circumstances. If only Esme were there with her; if only she could hold her friend’s hand for one last time. The thought of it finally made her cry. And it was the first time she had cried in all of it; from the moment her father had declared she would marry, these were the first tears she had shed.

  Her resolve to remain steadfast had finally broken.

  “There, there, my dear,” Kitty said, and Isabella was relieved that she had chosen an endearment rather than Your Grace. “Just because you have left behind a family of little care does not mean that you have walked into another just the same. You will find people here who cared greatly, really you will. There is little wonder that you are afraid, what young woman would not be? And I shall help you in any way I can, and you will find that I am not the only one. You will be cared for, my dear, really you will.” Kitty had perched awkwardly on the side of the bed and had reached out to take Isabella into her arms.

  Whilst she was the maid, she was still an older woman with much more idea about the world and its goings-on than Isabella had. And, in the style of many an older woman, she could not bear to see a younger woman so distressed, so wanting for affection, and not provide it.

  And, for her part, Isabella could not have been more grateful. She needed a friend more than anything in the world.

  Chapter 5

  When she awoke the following morning, Isabella felt a genuine sense of being trapped. Her marriage had finally settled into her properly, making her believe it was true; it really had happened.

  There was no sign that Kitty had been into her yet, and so Isabella guessed it must still be very early. She’d slept so well she could hardly believe it. After Kitty had brought her a light meal of meat and warm potatoes, Isabella had climbed back into bed, and that was the last thing she could remember.

  She could only think that it was the head injury which had allowed her to sleep so peacefully in such new and frightening circumstances.

  Tentatively, Isabella raised her hand to the back of her head and was pleased to discover that the bump had receded a good deal. She felt a little more like her old self in terms of feeling substantial and strong physically.

  Rising from the comfortable bed, Isabella tiptoed quietly over to the windows and drew back the heavy brocade curtains just enough to be able to peer out, hopefully unseen.

  Before her lay a scene which took her breath away; she was staring out what must surely be the back of Coldwell Hall onto beautiful, dense woodland. In truth, to describe it as woodland was to do it no justice for it was vast, reaching out to the very edges of the estate, at least as far as Isabella could see.

  Realizing that she would not be seen by anybody below since there was nobody there, Isabella drew the curtains back wide at every window and let the early morning sunlight flood in. She turned to look back into the room, to see it in the daylight. Its cream walls made it light and airy, and the room was at least four times the size of the one she had inhabited back at Upperton Hall.

  She wondered if that was to be her room forever, or if she would finally be expected to lay alongside the Duke. The very thought made her shudder.

  To take her mind off things, Isabella turned back to the beautiful woodlands. She could see several paths beginning to run into it and thought that there must be many little walks in that place. She looked out across the treetops, that fresh, bright green of spring seeming to overwhelm her in a very fine way.

  As she stared out, Isabella thought she could see some stonework high in the treetops. She knew, of course, that it could not be suspended there, but there must be a building of some sort. Straining to see better, Isabella thought she could make out a castellated ridge as
if what she was seeing was part of a castle turret. It was smaller, she was sure, and she could not see the thing entirely.

  What a curious thing to have in the middle of woodland. Isabella wondered if she would ever be allowed outside; if she would be able to take one of the pathways into the woodland and find the building. Quite why she felt the sudden need to satisfy her curiosity when everything else in her life was so uncertain was quite beyond her.

  The door opened with a creek, and Isabella spun around fast, her heartbeat quickening.

  “It’s only me, Your Grace,” Kitty said with a smile. “I’m just bringing your water jug.” Kitty advanced into the room and set the jug on top of a beautiful mahogany washstand in the far corner.

  Isabella could see tendrils of steam rising up from the jug and thought that the water must be wonderfully warm. How kind Kitty was.

  “Thank you, Kitty.”

  “Have you been awake for long, Your Grace?”

  “Just a few minutes.” She turned away from the window and walked into the room. “I must admit that I slept very well indeed.”

  “And how do you feel this morning?”

  “In terms of health and vitality, Kitty, I feel very much better,” she said with a smile. “But I must admit, regarding my own heart and mind; I am still very much at sea.”

  “Then let us hope that today brings a little more peace to your heart. Perhaps when you have had a chance to look around the place and see how beautiful it is, you might feel a little better.” Kitty smiled at her hopefully.

  “Am I expected to stay in this room, Kitty?” Isabella said uncertainly.

  “Goodness me, no.” Kitty laughed. “You really are not a prisoner.”

  “Am I to go downstairs to take my breakfast?”

  “You may have your breakfast wherever you choose. If you would prefer to have it here, then I shall bring it up to you. If you would prefer to go down to the breakfast room, I will escort you so that you know your way.”

  Isabella mulled it over for a moment. It was true that she did want to have a look around the place, just so that she could shift the feeling that she was trapped inside that room forever. But she could not help wondering if the Duke would be taking his breakfast also. Could she really sit with him and eat bacon and tomatoes without concern? And would he care to see her at all after she had fainted away at the sight of his face on their wedding day?

  “Perhaps I will take my breakfast in my room this morning, Kitty. It might be wise to slowly get used to things, might it not?”

  “As you wish,” Kitty said with a nod. “I shall go down and collect you some breakfast now and then help you dress when you are ready.”

  Isabella was surprised by the amount she was able to eat, taking not only bacon and tomatoes but some toast and a large boiled egg also. Kitty had left her alone to eat, to enjoy her meal in private. When she poured the steaming hot tea into the cup, Isabella felt greatly refreshed.

  She rose, holding her cup and saucer, and returned to the window to look out at the stone turret. She had wanted to ask Kitty about it but, as with everything else she had wanted to ask, she decided to wait until she knew her lady’s maid a little better.

  When Kitty returned to help her dress, Isabella was already looking through the great wardrobe. She immediately found her own collection of gowns, but they were swamped by a very much larger collection. Isabella could not help wondering who the gowns belonged to and, in the moment before Kitty returned to her, she hurriedly sorted through them.

  The gowns looked new, unworn, and were very beautiful indeed. But if the Duke was, indeed, a recluse, a man who had lived alone for many years, why was it that there was a wardrobe full of beautiful gowns? Was there another lady here?

  “You have found your gowns, Your Grace,” Kitty said as she bustled back into the room.

  “Yes, I have found my gowns, Kitty; I thank you,” Isabella said, still confused. “But I have found some other gowns also, hanging alongside mine. Tell me, who do they belong to?”

  “They belong to you.” Kitty smiled and looked in longingly at the gowns. “They are lovely, are they not?”

  “They are very beautiful, but I do not see how they are mine.”

  “His Grace had them made up for you before you came. He wanted you to have everything you needed.”

  “But how could he be sure that they would fit me? The Duke and I did not even meet until yesterday in the chapel.”

  “He asked your father for one of your gowns so that the seamstress might be able to make up one that would fit you. And if there are any alterations to be made, the seamstress will return and give you a proper fitting.”

  “Oh, I see,” Isabella said, dumbfounded.

  For a moment, she thought that the effort that the Duke had gone to was extraordinarily thoughtful. However, her optimism quickly turned to dust as she thought that having everything she needed might mean that she need never leave Coldwell Hall again. Everything was so confusing.

  “Which gown would you like to wear, Your Grace?” Kitty opened the second door to the wardrobe out wide.

  “I think, for today at least, I shall wear this one.” Isabella pointed to one of her own gowns, a neat but practical gown in a very pale green.

  Isabella did not want to antagonize the Duke by choosing not to wear one of his gowns, but neither did she want to immediately go out of her way to appease him. If she was to spend a lifetime with such a man, she did not want to begin as her mother had done. She wanted to maintain something of herself, her individuality, and if it turned out to be the wrong thing to do, she would deal with the consequences as they came.

  “What a lovely colour. It suits your pale skin and dark hair perfectly,” Kitty said, laying the dress out on the bed and admiring it genuinely.

  Kitty had Isabella ready in no time and seemed to enjoy herself thoroughly. Isabella thought that she must have been a very good lady’s maid when she had attended the previous Duchess and was glad to see that the woman was enjoying the reprisal of her old role.

  “Thank you, Kitty. How very skilled you are.” Isabella looked at her hair in the mirror.

  “You do have such lovely hair, my dear.” Once again, Kitty’s absent-minded familiar tone in her address of the new Duchess was comforting, almost motherly.

  “What am I to do now?” Isabella asked uncertainly.

  “Well, I am to take you down to meet Mr Crawford Maguire.”

  “Maguire? Oh, he is a tall man with the pale hair who opened the gates to my father’s carriage yesterday.”

  “Quite so.” Kitty smiled. “The Duke thought it best that you speak with Mr Maguire so that he might be able to answer any questions that you have. Perhaps then, with some of your questions answered, you might feel a little more comfortable here.”

  “I certainly hope so.”

  As fearful as Isabella was of leaving the room, she was equally desperate to step out through the open door.

  Kitty led her along a wide corridor, its walls adorned with some of the biggest portraits she had ever seen. The corridor was wide and gave a true sense of how large Coldwell Hall must really be. There were many doors and many rooms, and she wondered if she would ever come to know the place properly; if she would ever feel it to be her home.

  She walked smartly down the immense main staircase behind Kitty and marveled at how ornate the glossy woodwork was. As she continued down the stairs, she could not help reaching out and running a finger down it, feeling the smoothness.

  Arriving in the entrance hall was quite unforgettable. It was almost the size of the small ballroom back at Upperton and so grand it took her breath away. There was an ornate, life-size horse carved beautifully from wood and, sitting atop it, was a full suit of armour staged to look as if there truly was a man inside it.

  There were shields everywhere and great plaques containing swords and spears as ornaments on the oak-paneled walls.

  It was quite a display, and it gave her the feeling,
just for a moment, of being inside a medieval castle, a place ever ready for an attack from the outside.

  Isabella continued to follow Kitty for what felt like an age, turning this way and that down long corridors. Eventually, they arrived outside a partially open door, and Kitty paused.

  “I do not think I shall find my way back to the room,” Isabella said, feeling suddenly nervous and not really wanting Kitty to leave her.

  “Don’t worry; I shall come back for you.” And with that, Kitty laid a comforting hand on her forearm.

  “Thank you,” Isabella said and took a deep breath before tapping gently on the door.

  As Kitty clipped away down the corridor, the door opened, and Crawford Maguire smiled down at her.