The Legend of the Betrayed Duchess_A Historical Regency Romance Novel

by Hanna Hamilton

  “You must forgive me if I have seemed to be distracted from time to time, but with so many new people to meet in the area, it has taken me a while to appreciate the finest. It has been a matter of sorting the wheat from the chaff.”

  “Oh, Mr. Goodwin, how eloquently you put your meaning.”

  He smiled and looked again at the Duchess who was motioning with her hand for him to get on with it.

  “And so, my dear Miss Charlotte, could you find it in your heart to care for a humble gentleman like myself?”

  Charlotte blushed and lowered her eyes. “Mr. Goodwin…”

  “Beaumont,” he insisted.

  “Beaumont… I think you know the answer to that question.”

  He took a deep breath and, closing his eyes for just a second before asking the fatal question, said, “Then, Miss Charlotte, might I ask for your hand in marriage?”

  “Oh yes, Beaumont you may. And I shall happily accept.”

  Beaumont looked up at the Duchess and nodded ever so slightly.

  In a corner across the library a similar, but slightly different scenario was also playing itself out. Harold was holding Betsy’s hand and tears were threatening to spill from his eyes as he said, after telling her of his tale of misadventure, “My dearest, I am so ashamed. I feel I do not deserve you. However, I cannot but hope and pray that you might be able to forgive me and consent to take me as your husband.”

  “Oh Harold…I do love you.” Betsy said, her tears flowing freely and squeezing his hand.

  “Can you? Can you please say you will forgive me? Will you be my wife?”

  Betsy lowered her head for a moment before asking, “And have you spoken to my brother about this? Will he accept you as my husband?” Betsy sensibly asked.

  “I have,” Harold said, “And I have agreed to the conditions he has stipulated, as I have explained.”

  “Then I shall accept you as well, my beloved Harold—you naughty boy.”

  Chapter 36

  Lucy found herself at loose ends after the ladies adjourned to the library. There was no one she really wished to converse with, and George was nowhere to be seen. She thought she had seen him leave the dining room, but he had not returned, and certainly did not return with the gentlemen after their port and cigars.

  For her, it was a most melancholy evening. She had finally come to accept the fact that George was most likely going to be engaged to Miss Goodwin.

  What she really wanted now was to return to her writing, but would it be perceived as rude if she walked out of the party? And if she did, who would she offend? Certainly not the Duchess, who had been shunning her ever since she refused to continue on as her personal attendant. And certainly not the sisters—except for Betsy who was otherwise engaged with her brother. That, at least, pleased her.

  Lucy unobtrusively slipped out of the library and returned to her room where she changed into a more comfortable dress and went to her desk to organize her neglected pages and was ready to start writing when the sound of music came from the floor below. Lucy had not realized the Duchess had arranged for dancing after the dinner and, as lovely as it sounded, it was distracting her from what she needed to do.

  She got up, put on her wool shawl, and taking up her pages, left the suite and headed for the studio where she thought she might be able to work in peace and quiet.

  However, she was surprised, as she approached the stables to see a light at the studio window. So that is where George had gone, she thought. And she could not help but smile. How similarly they thought.

  She climbed the stairs to the studio and went inside. And sure enough, George was at work on his latest painting.

  “Oh, hello, Lucy. I see you had the same idea I had. Were you bored with the dinner party?”

  “Not bored so much as ignored, and my mind kept drifting to my writing so I decided to get away and see if I might accomplish anything for the rest of the evening.”

  “I am happy you came,” George said working a brush that had dried stiffly.

  “I promise not to bother you,” Lucy said as she settled in at her desk.

  “You never bother me.”

  They both turned to their work for a while—quiet reining over the studio with the very faint strains of music drifting from the manor.

  The only other sounds were the strokes of George’s brush and the scratch of Lucy’s pen as she hunched over her page and found the pleasure of working again.

  After a while, George kept glancing over at Lucy. She was totally oblivious for some time but then caught a moment when he was looking at her and smiling.

  “Was there something you wanted to ask me?” she said, putting down her pen.

  “As a matter of fact, there is.”

  She waited while he stood looking at her with the strangest expression on his face.

  “I have been thinking that when I go to London for my show, you should come with me again. It has been some time since you were there, and it must be time for some new dresses by now.”

  Lucy could not help but notice his subtle, but strange smile. “I am quite content with my wardrobe at the moment, thank you. Would we be staying at your Aunt Hester’s again? I should like to see her. She and Sir Harcourt were so kind to us when we visited before.”

  “No,” he said taking steps toward her. “I was thinking that we might stay in a fine hotel near the gallery. We would, of course, visit dear Aunt at some point, but I should like a different arrangement this time.”

  Lucy suddenly became apprehensive. “A hotel? Would that be quite proper? I would need my own room.”

  “Oh, I think not,” George said. “Because I want you to come to London with me as my wife. Will you marry me, Lucy Brighton?” he asked as he knelt before her and took out his grandmother’s engagement ring he had slipped into his pocket after leaving the dinner party.

  Lucy brought her hand to her mouth. She was momentarily stunned, and all she could do was stammer, “But… I… but George… how can this be possible? I thought you were to marry Miss Priscilla?”

  “And whatever gave you that idea?” he asked laughing while still holding out the ring to her.

  “Your mother… And I have no money… how will your mother ever consent?”

  “I do not need her consent, Lucy.” He picked up her left hand and slipped the engagement ring on her finger. Then he looked directly at her and said. “Lucy you must know we have had feelings for each other for some time now. For various reasons we have shied away from acknowledging those feelings, but no longer. Lucy, I love you with all my heart and soul and being. And I ask you again, will you marry me?”

  “Oh, George, you know I will,” and she threw her arms around his neck and gave him a passionate kiss that he was not likely to forget.

  They then stood up and held on to each other tightly. The music from the manor continued to waft through the window, and George took her hand they began to dance, her head resting on his shoulder.

  “George,” she said softly. “You know I have always loved you, do you not?”

  “I know, my dearest, and as I have always loved you.”

  The Duchess was nearly overcome by giddiness—there were going to be three marriages in the family. How could life be any better? She ruminated. Ah, but then there is still poor Ann. However, realistically, she realized there was little chance that Ann would ever find someone to put up with her difficult disposition. But it is surprising what the incentive of ten to fifteen thousand more, on top of the yearly living can achieve. Maybe, just maybe, there might be one or two suitors I might be able to dig up. She scurried to her chairside table to find her notebook and began leafing through to see who she might be able to encourage with a sizable bribe.

  George came into his mother’s rooms with Lucy on his arm. Her Grace grimaced briefly but turned it into a smile.

  George said, “Mother, Lucy and I have been talking about the timing of the wedding. We wish to be married before we travel to London for my show. I w
as thinking early September, and then we could parlay the trip to London into a honeymoon. I understand Venice is particularly lovely in late September into early October.”

  “So far away?” Mother asked.

  George turned to Lucy and kissed her on the cheek. “Nothing but the very best for my beloved.”

  “And the wedding will be held where?” she asked. “Certainly not here or in the local church.”

  “We were thinking of Wells Cathedral. There is bound to be a substantial guest list with many of the peerage attending.”

  “That sounds proper,” Her Grace said. “Oh, my, what a lot to plan for. And with Charlotte’s wedding at the end of May, it is going to be a breathless time at Grayson Manor.”

  “You should also know I have spoken to Harold and Betsy and they have decided to postpone their wedding until Harold has worked off his encumbrance. They both feel it is the right thing. They want to make a clean and fresh start together.”

  “Well, that is one less worry.” But she seemed troubled and added, “Do you really think this is going to work between them. I was so shocked when you told me about Harold’s troubles. I fear Betsy may be making a horrible mistake.”

  Lucy spoke up, “Your Grace, I have great faith in my brother. I believe he is a good man and will live up to his responsibilities.” She turned to George and said, “And he has done wonderful work for you so far, has he not?”

  “I believe they made a wise and sober decision and I stand by him and their marriage,” he answered.

  Mother stood staring at her son and Lucy for a moment, and then she held out her hand and said, “Lucy, since you have no mother, you and I must discuss your wedding gown. You know, as the future Duchess of Sutherland, there are certain standards that must be considered. Madame Hortense is perfectly au courant and knowledgeable about what will be required. Would you be willing to put yourself in my hands so that your wedding will be the most splendid event possible?”

  Lucy turned to George and looked at him. He nodded.

  “I should be delighted to have you assist me. And you can start by fetching me my slippers.”

  That set all of them laughing.

  Epilogue

  The wedding of the Duke of Sutherland was to be a major event. All the inns, hotels, and rooms within a ten-mile radius of Wells were booked for the event. The wedding would take place in the cathedral on the first day, and the next day the guests would travel the two-and-thirty miles to Grayson Manor where the reception was to be held over a long weekend of celebration.

  Preparation at the Manor would begin up to a month in advance and, additional staff would be hired to accommodate the noble guests and their entourage. No money was to be spared. No delicacy was to be overlooked for the guest’s delight. A beautifully landscaped pond and fountain were created in front of the Manor, with gracefully swimming swans and benches for sitting to contemplate the vistas.

  Three orchestras were engaged to provide various kinds of music in several of the great rooms to keep everyone entertained. Lavish buffets were available from dawn until midnight for the guests to eat whenever they felt hungry. And one grand feast was planned in the large dining room for the last night of the celebration where more than a hundred were expected to attend.

  And, within the whirlwind of activity leading up to the wedding, George was finishing off his last several paintings and shipping them in his own carriage to London for the show which would open in less than a week after the wedding.

  Both George and Lucy were so busy; they rarely had a moment alone together. But one evening, a few days before they were to leave for Wells, they found themselves drawn to the studio at the same time.

  George was just sitting in a chair at the large studio window, gazing at the stars and taking a moment to find some repose. Lucy was drawn by her desire to recapture that moment when George had proposed to her. Her little desk in the messy studio had become a sacred spot for her and often, after a particularly difficult fitting for the wedding gown, she gravitated to the studio to just sit and dream of her happily-ever-after moment.

  “I was coming here to hide out for a bit, but I saw the light and expected to find you here,” Lucy said as she came inside.

  George turned in his chair and smiled, extending his hand to her and beckoning her to come to him. She went over and sat on his lap, putting her arm around him and laying her head on his shoulder.

  “This is all so wonderful, but I shall be grateful when it is finished, and we can begin to live our new life,” Lucy said.

  “Yes, I have often thought we should just run away and hide out in some forest and become Robin Hood and Maid Marian, disregarding all convention and living our lives as brigands and roustabouts.”

  “It sounds heavenly,” she said, giving George a kiss on his cheek, “But then you would not be able to paint, and I should need to scrub clothes and cook stews and never again set pen to paper.”

  “Perhaps you are right. And do think of how lovely a month or two in Venice will be. I shall feed you chocolates and mussels and bathe you in a bathtub filled with rose petals.”

  “Not all at the same time I hope,” she said with a giggle.

  George was overcome with a welling up of affection for her and he grabbed her and swung her around on his lap, picking her up as he stood, and placing her on her feet to face him.

  “My dearly beloved, Lucy, I shall cherish you always. Through the storms that life shall send our way, and the glorious joys that life shall bring us—always, always, always know that you are forever in my heart, my dearest, dearest Lucy.”

  “I still cannot believe that I, the daughter of a tenant farmer, will soon become the Duchess of Sutherland and married to the most wonderful man I have ever known in my entire life.”

  “And I can assure you—Mother will never let you forget that.”

  “Will you still visit me when you are Duchess?” Lucy’s bridesmaid, Isabell, asked as she helped Lucy with her bridal gown the day of the wedding, as she was being dressed in a hotel room in Wells.

  “I see no reason why not,” Lucy responded.

  “People with power can change.”

  “Power? What power shall I have? His Grace is basically a farmer and an artist. I am a humble writer, still waiting to be published. I hardly think any of that will go to my head and cause me to become a tyrant.”

  Isabell laughed. “Hold still. I cannot believe how many buttons there are on this gown.

  The soon to become Dowager Duchess was sitting on the side of the room, with Flossy standing beside her, scrutinizing every move, and spoke up at Lucy’s statement of modesty. “Lucy, you are soon to become the Duchess of Sutherland. I can assure you it is not a modest position, and I urge you to take your duties and responsibilities seriously. You are about to become married to one of the highest peers of the realm, and you must obliterate all thought of your humble beginnings and rise to the station to which my son has risen you. I beg you not to take this matter lightly.”

  Lucy turned to her Grace and said, “Thank you for your kind admonition, but please let me beg to differ with you. I have always believed that power and status must be tempered with compassion and understanding of those who are not of one’s class. I hope that my humble beginnings might serve as a counterbalance of modesty to the power that my husband yields, for I believe wisdom always serves the greater good of all.”

  Her Grace took up her fan and pointed to her drops which Flossy began to prepare.

  Lucy stood before the tall mirror and gazed at herself. Betsy was standing by with the white gold and diamond coronet to place on Lucy’s head. Charlotte Goodwin waited with the bridal bouquet of white and light pink roses.

  “How lovely you look,” Isabell said as she stood back and admired her friend.

  The gown was the simplest of dresses. Bone-white sheer layers of delicate fabric fell from just below the bust to the floor creating a train. A decorative belt of diamonds and pearls were sown around the
dress where the skirt met the bodice. Simple, sheer sleeves fell from the shoulder to the wrist. She wore a pink and white diamond necklace George had given her just yesterday.

  “Oh, my…” Lucy said, “This is really happening. She turned to Betsy, and said, “I guess it is time.”

  Betsy came forward and placed the coronet on top of Lucy’s beautifully prepared hair. Charlotte came over, gave Lucy a hug and handed her the flowers.

  Again, Lucy looked at herself in the mirror, now fully dressed and ready for the altar.

  “Very well, dear friends. I believe we have a wedding to attend.”

  The End?