The Legend of the Betrayed Duchess_A Historical Regency Romance Novel

by Hanna Hamilton

  Harold laughed. “It seems news travels fast in this house. I only agreed to the arrangement less than an hour ago.”

  “You might as well have stood on the roof and shouted it out. There seem to be few secrets in this household. But I am happy you will be with us a while longer.” It appeared that she was conquering her nervousness with him.

  “Miss Betsy, I saw you were reading when I came. What is the book?”

  She showed him the novel and became animated. “Do you like to read, Mr. Harold?

  “I do, but alas, I rarely find the time to do so.”

  “Then let me tell you about this amazing story.” She leaned in toward him and then began to tell him about the adventures of Miss Wilhelmina Evens, the heroine of the book.

  After Lucy was served her tea, she was planning to find a comfortable chair and relax from her afternoon of writing, but Ann was waving at her to come over to where she and Charlotte were seated.

  Ann was all smiles—a most unusual event.

  “Ann… Charlotte, I hope you do not mind me having tea with you this afternoon. But it seems Harold and I are to be staying here for some time, and I think we should try to be friends. Or, at least, that is my wish.”

  “Yes, yes,” Ann said dismissively. “But there is something we need to ask you.”

  “Yes?”

  Charlotte spoke, “Mr. Beaumont Goodwin… we know he wants to ask one of us to marry him, but he hesitates.”

  Ann picked up the narration, “And we thought it a good idea if we were to find him alone—away from his family—so that we might have a direct conversation with him. Find out his intentions and hopefully ease his way into asking one of us to marry him. You understand?”

  “He just needs a little push,” Ann added.

  Lucy found this amusing. It did not take a great deal of thought to figure out what the situation really was. Beaumont had made it quite clear to her several times that it was she who was the object of his interest—not either of the Grayson sisters. But was it any of her business to correct the sisters’ assumptions? She thought not.

  “And we were thinking it would be useful if you might agree to help us with this matter,” Ann insisted.

  Lucy decided to play along. It was intriguing to see what they might have in mind. It was so obvious they had no interest in her personally but were only trying to use her. “Of course, how might I be of assistance?”

  “You are so friendly, and everybody loves you.” Ann shifted in her chair as though she was uncomfortable with her false flattery. “And we thought you might know of someone amongst the servants who would have connections with the Brookdale staff. It would be so useful if we could find out Mr. Beaumont’s habits so that we might contrive an accidental meeting with him—if you understand.”

  “And how do you think that would help? Certainly, if he wanted to ask for your hand in marriage, he would do so.”

  They seemed blunted by her honest and obvious statement.

  Charlotte smiled. “But what you do not understand is the persuasive powers of our many assets. We think he has not had the opportunity to fully discover our many charms. And if we were to get him alone, away from the distractions of his family, he would surely see which of us his obvious choice must be.”

  Ann scowled at Charlotte for thinking it was she who would be chosen.

  Lucy decided to play along with this deception. “I should be happy to help. Now, exactly what is it you wish me to do?”

  Just then George came into the drawing room. It was clear he had just come from painting as he was in his work clothes and had smudges of paint on his face. He looked around and, seeing Lucy, went directly to her, interrupting, just as Ann was about to describe what they needed Lucy to do for them.

  “Sisters, might I tear Lucy away from you for a moment? I need just a few words with her.”

  Lucy turned to Ann and shrugged. “Excuse me, please.”

  She stood and walked aside with George, happy to escape the sisters, but knowing they would not let her escape for long.

  “Lucy, I just heard the news. Harold has accepted the position. And I must ask, what does this mean for you? Are you still planning to accept the position with Lady Harding?”

  Lucy was thrilled he was asking her that question. “I am not. Your father has granted that Harold and I may continue living at the Manor until my brother is able to obtain a suitable estate for our use.”

  “Then you intend to remain in Dorset?”

  “I do. Harold has graciously offered to let me live at his estate as long as I wish. And in the meantime, he is supporting me with my writing.” Lucy could not believe she was about to say this, but she could not help herself. “And he plans to establish a substantial living on me if I should ever decide to marry.”

  She could not look George in the eyes after she said that. It was such a brazen thing to say. He could not help but understand her meaning.

  In fact, when she finally did look up at him, he seemed to be struggling with his own inner turmoil. She then said, as lightly as she could, “So you see, you may continue to count on me to model for you, from time to time—as long as it does not interfere with my writing.”

  He just looked at her for the longest moment and then smiled and said, “I shall not paint you again until it is your official portrait as an established novelist. However, in the meantime, you still have your writing desk in the studio, and you are welcome to use it at any time.”

  “Now, that is an offer I cannot refuse.”

  Ann came over and, taking hold of her brother’s arm, asked, “Are you finished with our dear Miss Lucy yet? We need her for just a little while longer, and then you are free to carry on. May I?” she asked, taking hold of Lucy’s hand and backing up and pulling Lucy with her.

  Lucy cast a look at George, and he smiled and winked at her and waved his hand at his sister, allowing her to take Lucy away.

  Lucy’s mind was still swirling with her audacious announcement to George about her newly acquired living, but she was brought quickly back to the moment when she sat opposite the sisters.

  “Now what we need from you,” Charlotte began, “is for you to see who amongst our staff have an acquaintance with any staff at the Brookdale Estate. And if there are any such folks let us know so that we may instruct them on what we need.”

  “Can you do that for us, Lucy?” Ann asked.

  It was little enough to ask, and Lucy hoped that by helping them she might establish a more-friendly relationship with the sisters. “Of course. Let me inquire around, and I will let you know what I discover.”

  That seemed to satisfy them, and they immediately stood and went to refresh their tea without offering to do the same for her.

  Chapter 25

  “I do not know who else to talk to,” Betsy said nearly in tears as she stood in the doorway of George’s studio.

  George looked up from his easel after adding some cerulean blue to his palette. Seeing his youngest sister in distress, he turned from his painting and opened his arms to her. She came over and laid her head on his shoulder as he hugged her.

  “What is it, Betsy-Boo?”

  “Oh, George, why would anyone ever choose to be in love?”

  He could not help but laugh. “You are in love? I think you had better tell me all about it.” He took both of her hands. “Come. Let us walk outside. A much better place to talk about love than in my smelly studio.”

  “But it is so cold outside, and I did not bring a coat.”

  “Very well then. Come sit with me on my horrid old sofa and tell me all about it.”

  They sat down on what could only be described as the worst looking piece of furniture in all of Dorset.

  “And who is the lucky fellow to capture your affections, dear sister?” Betsy suddenly became shy and appeared reluctant to speak. “Come along, nothing to fear.”

  “Harold,” was all she would say at first.

  George was impressed. “And a fine you
ng man he seems to be from the short time I have known him. Father thinks highly of him as well. And do you think this attraction is reciprocal?”

  “You see that is the problem. How does one ever know? We have barely spoken. At tea yesterday, we talked about books. He listened attentively to my narration about the book I am reading, and we discussed horses and our favorite desserts, and he told me about the parents he lost, but he never took my hand and never gave any indication of what he might feel for me.”

  George could not help but smile. “My dear, you have only had one conversation with him. Give it some time. It takes a while longer for a gentleman to show his feelings. He needs to get to know you.”

  “But I know. I know I love him with all my heart and soul,” she blurted out.

  “If you do not mind my saying, Betsy, from what I have observed of you in social situations, you tend to set yourself apart. I do not believe I have seen you openly converse with any gentlemen at all. You usually have your nose in a book and appear to be repelled by any young man that shows you any interest.

  “I remember at the ball you hardly danced with anyone. And the few gentlemen you did dance with, was only because Mother forced you to.”

  “But none of them were Harold,” she wailed.

  “My dear, you have been taken, have you not. You ignore everyone and then all at once you discover the love of your life.”

  “What am I to do, George? Mother thinks of him as the son of a tenant farmer, and she will surely poison Father against him.”

  “I doubt that. Father thinks very highly of him and has entrusted him to help run the estate. And I have seen them together. They have a very good relationship.”

  “Then what do I do now? Should I say anything to him about how I feel?”

  George was not used to giving advice on romantic matters and was not certain what to say next. He could not help but think of Lucy as he tried to give his sister the best advice.

  “Sometimes the very best action is to wait.”

  Betsy looked at him with the most sorrowful eyes. “But why is loving so painful?”

  “Now, that I cannot answer.”

  “But have you ever felt this way?”

  George was suddenly discovering that his little sister was asking questions he did not want to answer. Not because he did not know, but because they were questions he had avoided asking of himself.

  “Let me just say, that the course of love is uneven. It takes time to reveal itself, and there are many twists and turns along the way. But if it is true love, the lovers will eventually reveal themselves to each other, and it will lead to the deepest happiness.”

  “Then what you are saying is, I should do nothing?”

  George laughed. “Yes, for now.”

  After Betsy’s visit, George could not get Lucy out of his mind. What a remarkable circumstance it had been for her brother to find her, and for Lucy to find that he was alive.

  But most surprising was her announcement that Harold had bestowed a substantial living on her. There could be no mistake that she wanted him to know about that. Had she been trying to let him know how she felt about him? He had to find out. But then he remembered his own advice to Betsy—love takes time to reveal itself.

  But before he could reveal his deepest feelings to her, he needed to find out how his parents would take to him asking Lucy to be his wife. He already knew his mother would disapprove of him marrying the daughter of a tenant farmer—even if she did have a considerable dowry.

  He decided to take his own advice and first sound out his father on this matter. If he approved, then George felt he could eventually persuade his mother to his point of view.

  George went to the house to find Stevens.

  “There you are,” George said to the butler after finding him in the kitchen with Mrs. Mead.

  “Sir, how may I assist?”

  “Do you happen to know where my father is this morning?”

  “I believe he and Mr. Harold have gone into town on errands.”

  “Ah… Thank you. And Miss Lucy?”

  “She has been spending the mornings in her rooms—writing, I believe.”

  Dare he disturb her while she was writing? He longed to be near her and just visit, but he also respected the fact that she had been so deprived of the time to write these past few years that she must now be trying to catch up. Perhaps he would take time from his painting to visit with her at tea time, as he knew she usually took a break then.

  He returned to his studio and thought he might also catch his father later that afternoon and talk with him about his intentions for Lucy.

  Tea time that afternoon started out to be nothing special. The usual group appeared, and each family member was settling in for a time of quiet refreshment. As always, tea was served at the sideboard where the tea snacks were put out for each person to select what they wanted, while Stevens served the tea.

  Her Grace had collected a napkin filled with treats to surreptitiously feed Princess on the sly. Flossy sat nearby but was nearly ready to fall asleep and nodded off occasionally. But as soon as her head fell she snapped awake, blinking.

  Ann was seated with her legs folded under her in a large chair studying some sheet music she wanted to play the next time Beaumont might visit.

  Charlotte and Betsy were playing a hand of Bezique—Harold and the Duke had not returned from town yet, or Betsy would have been sitting as near her beloved as possible.

  Lucy had just come down from writing. Stevens was pouring her some tea when she saw George come in. He looked around the room, and seeing her, grinned and came over to where she was selecting a few tea sandwiches and a small piece of cake at the sideboard.

  “Did you have a good day of writing?” he asked her.

  “Thank you, I did, but I have had quite enough work for one day and mean to slack off the rest of the afternoon.”

  “Might you wish to come on a walk with me?” he asked. “There are a few things I should like to discuss with you. I was thinking we might stroll along the river. It seems to have warmed up enough this afternoon to not be too uncomfortable.”

  Lucy was very pleased. She could only imagine what he might want to discuss with her. “I shall be happy to walk with you. That sounds delightful.”

  Chapter 26

  Stevens was just serving George his tea when the drawing-room door opened, and Beaumont and Miss Priscilla entered.

  Beaumont quickly surveyed the room and greeted, “Good afternoon. My sister and I are happy to, once again, take you up on your standing invitation to stop by for tea any afternoon.”

  There was but the briefest moment of hush before Ann and Charlotte stood. They appeared to be a little flustered by the brother and sister’s surprise arrival, but they quickly composed themselves and rushed over to greet Beaumont.

  They fluttered around him like nesting birds, both talking at the same time, but he looked past them toward Lucy.

  “Excuse me, ladies, I should like to have a word with Miss Lucy,” he said breaking from their attentions. Charlotte and Ann were shocked and stood back and watched as he headed to Lucy.

  Beaumont bowed and said, “Miss Lucy, might you and I have a word in private?”

  Lucy cast a glance at George, but his attention was drawn away by the approach of Miss Priscilla.

  “Of course, Mr. Goodwin. The window seat at the far end of the room should provide some privacy. But would you like to take some tea first?”

  “Later perhaps. But I most urgently wish to speak with you.”

  Lucy did not like the sound of that but said, “Very well.”

  Beaumont offered his arm, and they went to sit in the seclusion of the alcove window.

  Beaumont began with a broad smile on his handsome face. “Miss Lucy, I was overjoyed when I heard the news.”

  “Oh, and what news was that?”

  “About you and your brother reuniting.”

  Lucy nodded. “I see… yes, it is a most delightfu
l development. And it has totally changed both of our lives.” But Lucy was curious. “And how did you learn about this? It happened only recently, and it is not something that has been made public.”

  Laughing, Beaumont said, “Ah… yes, as you probably know by now, rural Dorset has a gossip network that is more active and proficient than that of the wags of London. News moves faster and more efficiently than the London postal service. It is my contention that it is all run by our household staffs.”

  Lucy smiled inwardly. So, Ann and Charlotte were correct in their assumptions about the interconnectedness of the servants countywide.