The Curious Life of the Unfortunate Duchess
A Historical Regency Romance Novel
Emma Linfield
Edited by
Robin Spencer
Contents
A Thank You Gift
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Epilogue
Extended Epilogue
The Redemption of the Scared Duchess
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Also by Emma Linfield
About the Author
A Thank You Gift
Thanks a lot for purchasing my book. It really means a lot to me, because this is the best way to show me your love.
As a Thank You gift I have written a full length novel for you called The Betrayed Lady Winters. It’s only available to people who have downloaded one of my books and you can get your free copy by tapping this link here.
Once more, thanks a lot for your love and support.
With love and appreciation,
Emma Linfield
About the Book
The dazzling Miss Elizabeth Follett lives in the shadow of murmuring and gossip that inevitably follows every great beauty. A beauty that has haunted her and made her hesitant toward love.
Leonard, a charming young Duke, carries the burden of his father’s loss and a title that binds him to a woman he is not in love with. When his steps bring him to Elizabeth, he is determined to never let her go despite his commitment.
Their love, scandalous like a forbidden fruit, is in the eye of the storm...a storm made of envy and social outrage that gets Elizabeth kidnapped. With every tick of the clock, her life is more and more uncertain and with it, their happiness together also fades.
Leonard craves to save her, but love needs a sacrifice.
Chapter 1
“Lady Catherine, His Grace has returned!”
Leonard, the Duke of Pembroke had barely stopped his horse in front of the manor when cries of excitement rang out to meet his ears. A flurry of activity followed his dismount and Leonard was left beaming at the elated household who came to greet him. He had been gone but a month yet the welcome was the same as if he had been off to the wars and absent for years. The duchy did miss him, regardless of how long or short a journey he had made and regardless of the reasons for his travels.
His sister, Catherine, appeared at the threshold while the servants attended to his trunks, her smile matching his own. No one longed for his safe return more than she, of that Leonard was certain.
“Leo!” she gasped, a gloved hand on her chest. “I am so pleased you are home and well!”
Leonard laughed, a booming, authoritative sound which reverberated through the tree-nestled property. He hurried to greet her. He snatched the riding gloves from his hand and tossed them to a nearby servant boy, along with a coin and a wink. The child’s eyes lit up and he whirled to his mother who stood nearby to show her. Leonard had already moved his attention back to Catherine. He had thought of her endlessly and was eager to hear of how the duchy fared in his absence. He had left so much behind, after all, a small feeling of guilt reminding him of such.
I cannot be faulted for going when I did. We all have managed in our own way.
“Of course I am well, dear sister. Have you ever known me to be unwell?”
Catherine’s face shadowed slightly as she recalled instances but as quickly as it had fallen, the umbra vanished. Leonard was grateful for such small favors. The last thing he wished to do was engage in an argument with her when the occasion was a happy one.
“How do you fare? Have you kept Mother well?” The question was not idle. Their household had been through a great deal in the past months and the Duke worried for his family. Thoughts of his mother and sister had weighed heavily on his mind, particularly of his mother. Her proximity to melancholy had been heart-wrenching and Leonard hoped for good news on that front.
“I will send for Mother and you can see for yourself,” Catherine said, reaching to link her arm through his. “She is tending to the roses, which seems to be a point of interest as of late. Oh, what a happy day. I do wish you would not stay away without corresponding for so long. It causes us to fret.”
Leonard accepted her arm and patted her hand reassuringly.
“You need not fret about me, my dear sister. I am here now and our father has raised a strong son. God would not let anything happen to me while I have you to care for.”
Catherine’s mouth formed a fine line and while she made no comment, Leonard had a fair idea what was on her mind.
If God was so just, how could He wrench our father from us before his time?
Leonard suspected there was more than that troubling his sister, also.
She does not understand why I feel the need to travel so excessively when my business is in the duchy.
It was a discussion he had shared with not only Catherine but his widowed mother, on several occasions. He did not wish to revisit the issue on that morning. His travels from Wales had been long and he yearned for little more than a bath and a glass of port.
“Your Grace, shall I send Jacob to fetch you a bath?” Beatrice asked, well aware of the Duke’s penchant to unwind following a journey. He turned toward the elderly servant and nodded gratefully.
“Indeed,” he replied. “I will greet the Duchess and then take it in my chambers.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” Beatrice curtsied before fading into the dim corners of the house. The siblings continued toward the gardens, in search of their mother.
“How has the household fared in my absence?” Leonard asked. “Has mother been well?”
Catherine cast him a sidelong look but from where he stood, he could not be certain of what it was meant to express.
“She has improved much in her grief. The garden does appear to calm her a great deal and she no longer takes laudanum to sleep,” Catherine replied. “I daresay she is learning to cope without Father.”
Relief passed through Leonard at the remarks. The passing of his father a mere six months earlier had not struck his mother well. It was hardly a shock to anyone—his parents had been aptly suited for one another, the respect they shared unparalleled by any wed couple Leonard had known. The 4th Duke of Pembroke’s passing had left quite a hole in the household, his gregarious charm missed dearly throughout the halls of Brookside. Leonard had been equally as haunted by Aylmer Hervey’s passing as the ladies, although he had managed to keep his own anguish much quieter than his kin, as was expected of him. He was the Duke, after all, and it was his duty to remain strong in the face of upset. However, he did not fault his mother in the least for her outward displays of grief. Before he had left on his much-needed journey, he had be
en tentatively concerned about her wits.
“You will replace me one day, Leo,” his father oft told him, before the illness had claimed his fragile body. “You will fill this house with laughter and strength but to do that, you must always follow your heart and do not accept rejection. I have raised you to be firm, unwavering. That is what is required to be a respected duke.”
“I swear it,” Leonard vowed. “I will do you proud, Father.”
“You have always done me proud, my son.”
A pang of sadness touched Leonard’s chest but he brushed it away. It was the reason he had journeyed to Wales. He had wished to mourn in private and leave it behind before returning to his duties in Pembroke.
A splash of brilliant sunlight touched his green eyes as Catherine pushed open the double glass doors leading into the gardens at the rear of the property. Leonard blinked twice, his eyes adjusting to the brightness and Catherine tugged him along eagerly.
“Do not dawdle now. You have been gone for too long a while. Mother need not have one more moment of worry on your behalf.”
“I do not dawdle!” he protested. “I merely attempt to see against the sun’s rays. Moreover, how can she worry when I am but a few yards away from her?”
“A likely story, the sun in your eyes,” Catherine jested and they laughed. Her smile faded slightly, only to remain softly on her lips and she studied her brother intently.
“You look well, Leo. I daresay the journey did you good. Was it everything you needed? Do you have a better hold upon your senses now?”
He nodded slowly, squeezing her gloved hand gently against the crook of his elbow.
“It was necessary to clear my thoughts before returning but I must confess, there were some allowances for pleasure.”
“I am not shocked in the least,” Catherine replied, shaking her long, blonde tresses so they fell about the ruffles of her blue dress in a waterfall of curls. Leonard marveled at how much they resembled one another. They were ten years apart in age but much closer than that length of time would suggest.
In their youth, they had spent hours frolicking in the tumbling streams near Brookside and hunting in the wooded areas. Despite her fairness and dainty appearance, Catherine was much more a son to the late Duke than she had been a daughter. Perhaps it was the downfall of having an older brother but she was a tomboy, much the chagrin of the Duchess of Pembroke. Lace and bows lay in muddy puddles, marking the wake of Lady Catherine from the time she was old enough to run.
Soon, she will be married off to a man of status and he will be caught with his hands as full as an inept juggler. Leonard mused with affection. He admitted to himself that he looked forward to seeing such a union. His sister deserved a strong man. If her future husband could not hold his water then he would not be worthy of Catherine’s affections. Leonard idly realized that he would also have his own woes finding her such a match.
That is a matter for another time. I dare not broach the notion of marriage with her today. In my weariness, the idea of such a conversation galls me.
His mother’s robust frame came into view as they rounded the wisteria and Catherine called out to rouse her attention.
“Mother, see who has returned!”
At once, Mary, Duchess of Pembroke, turned her regal head to stare in the direction of the voice.
“Leonard!” the Duchess breathed. “My son has returned from his travels!”
She scrambled to her feet, her long skirts brushing against the loose soil of the garden and she rushed to greet him. Leonard strode toward her, his hand extended to take hers.
“Mother,” he said cordially, taking her dirty glove to his mouth. “You look well.”
She beamed at him happily, her aqua-colored eyes bright as she nodded.
“As do you, Leonard. I am pleased you have returned safely.”
Leonard chuckled, releasing her hand and falling back alongside his sister.
“Alarmists - you both are,” he announced. “I was merely gone a month. There would not have been time enough for the mails to reach you if I should have had occasion to write but I will retell every detail of my journey until your minds are at peace.”
“Yes. You must regale us with tales of your travels,” Mary agreed. “After you are fed and bathed. I daresay you are rank, my dearest son.”
Again, he laughed, grateful to have a family who knew him so well. He doubted very much that he reeked as his mother claimed but it amused him that she teased him. It had been a long while since he had seen her in such a cheerful state. Great ease filled his heart as he saw that perhaps, the worst of their seemingly endless grief might be at its end.
“Had I known you would return today, I would have seen that there was quail for supper but I daresay it is quite late in the morning for such a request. I will try, however, I promise nothing,” Mary continued as she studied her son’s face for an indication of his sentiments. Leonard shook his blonde curls, his long hair flapping against the gentle breeze beneath the brim of his high, black hat.
“I need nothing fancy, Mother. A cold soup will suffice, perhaps some soggy bread and water. I have grown rather fond of such meals in the trenches of Wales.”
“Indeed!” Mary huffed but she caught the teasing glint in her son’s eyes and sighed. “You must not jest with me, Leonard. I fret when you are away. For all I know, that is precisely where you find yourself, entrenched in filth and disease.”
“I am aware how you worry, Mother,” he told her kindly. “I assure you, I faced no danger. I would not add to your anguish. My travels were quite comfortable, although there was no quail to speak of.”
Mother and son held a gaze, an unspoken truce falling between them. It was not difficult for Leonard to guess what his mother thought of when he journeyed from the duchy. Before the death of Aylmer, Leonard had found himself in some rather perilous situations. Perhaps he had been inspired by an inherited rebellious streak, one passed from father to son, which encouraged him to engage in often reckless behavior. Leonard had oft made questionable choices which did not permit his mother easy rest at night.
That was before Father passed. Now I have my family and the duchy to consider. I would never endanger myself and compound Mother and Catherine’s worries, no matter what temptations may find me.
“Come along then,” Mary declared, content with what she saw in her son’s face. “We shall find you some tepid soup.”
Leonard laughed merrily, grasping Catherine’s arm again. Her children followed the Duchess toward the main house and exchanged glances of amusement.
“What did you do in Wales?” Catherine murmured when Mary was out of earshot. “Did you imbibe and whoremonger?”
Leonard stopped walking abruptly and stared at her, mildly offended by the insinuation. While he had never been a saint, he had certainly never been a drunk nor a whoremonger. The query was merely another reminder that his sister had been hardened in the absence of their father. Young Catherine would never have spoken such words.
“What a thing to ask!” he cried. “Why would you pose such a tawdry question?”
Catherine hung her head, shame filling her lovely green eyes, so akin to his own. Leonard knew she did not intend to be cruel but that her own heart was filled with sadness still, despite her efforts to appear aloof.
“I do not understand what you must do in other towns which you cannot do in Pembroke,” she sighed. “I would prefer you do not leave with such frequency. I feel as though you leave on a whim.”
Guilt touched his gut once more and Leonard nodded understandingly.
“I see.” He truly did understand his sister’s grievance. She had been left alone in a house with a melancholic mother and servants who could hardly be considered friends. Leonard faced her.
“I will limit my unnecessary travels henceforth,” he told her earnestly. “However, when I cannot avoid it, you must make an effort to make acquaintances of your own. You cannot remain in Brookside, alienated from the world. It i
s not sound for your mind nor soul.”
Catherine scowled slightly, her bottom lip forming a pout of defiance.
“It is easy for you to say,” she mumbled. “You are charming and adored by all. The townsfolk speak of me as if I am a leper.”
Leonard’s eyebrows shot up, shocked by the confession.
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