by Miers, Fiona
Lord Melton and his Duchess
Fiona Miers
Published by Tamsin Baker, 2021.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
LORD MELTON AND HIS DUCHESS
First edition. July 7, 2021.
Copyright © 2021 Fiona Miers.
Written by Fiona Miers.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Chapter One
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight.
Chapter Nine.
Chapter Nine
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen.
Chapter Seventeen.
Epilogue
Chapter One
Beams of early morning sunshine shone through the window, casting a stream of bright light onto the floor by Charles’ feet. Nothing but silence echoed in the house around him.
As the Duke of Waign, there was usually a rather lively atmosphere when he was in residence at his country estate. His two eldest daughters, aged nine and six respectively, were a spirited duo who possessed seemingly limitless energy. Their giggles could be heard from the early hours of the morning until long after the sun had set in the sky.
Charles considered himself lucky to be blessed with his daughters, of which he now had three. The youngest was still a babe, barely walking, and although he had wished for a son to inherit his title of Duke one day, he would certainly not trade his daughters for an heir.
He had brothers a plenty for that.
Charles pursed his lips and rather than relish in the quiet surroundings of his townhouse in London, he felt annoyed. Why, he wasn’t certain, as he’d had a pleasant night’s sleep, without interruptions.
His wife, Emma, and their three daughters were still at Finlay Hall, their country estate, along with his younger brother and his wife, while he had returned to London, alone.
He was a member at the House of Lords and as such, was required to make an appearance at the first committee meetings of the session. Of course, he missed the presence of his wife and children, but they would join him back at the townhouse in due time.
Charles reached for his cup of tea and took a sip. The wretched taste of cold tea made him gag. He spewed the vile liquid back into the cup and called out to his maid.
“Are you trying to poison me, Constance?” he demanded.
“Whatever do you mean, Your Grace?”
“This tea is ghastly,” he said.
Her eyes went round with surprise. “My sincerest apologies, Your Grace. Shall I prepare you another?”
“No, I am late as it is,” he said as he glanced at the tall, wooden grandfather clock in the corner of the parlour. He rose to his feet, angrily casting the napkin onto the table, and stomped out of the room, his loud footsteps echoing through the hallway.
“Your Grace, before you leave. A very important letter—”
“Constance, I most certainly do not have time for that now. If it was as critical as you claim it to be, you should have brought it to my attention immediately.”
“It has only just arrived—”
“I will give it my attention later,” Charles insisted and gave his maid a dismissive wave as he departed the townhouse.
He stepped onto the pavement and moved towards his coach, which already awaited him. As the driver swung open the door, he hastily climbed inside and with a firm and impatient tone, ordered the man to make haste.
His surroundings blurred around him as the coach sped up, taking him to Westminster Palace. They passed Westminster Abbey, and Charles drew in a deep breath. He could no longer ignore the dark cloud of agitation that had perched itself upon his shoulder.
He did not have the time nor the energy to dwell on the feeling, but ignoring it was simply impossible.
He looked up as his coach came to a halt. Several members stood outside the Palace of Westminster, enjoying the fresh air of the morning, and although Charles would normally join in their conversations, this morning he made his apologies and kept walking.
His mood was far too agitated for him to test it with inane conversation. He entered the large building, greeting other Parliament members with an acknowledging nod.
Once the hall began to fill with the other members of the House of Lords, Charles took his seat and stared down at his hands, which rested on his lap. He did not care for this mood he was in, but he was uncertain as how to rid himself of it.
The agenda of that day’s sitting was rather uncomplicated, as the French revolution and the subsequent wars with France that ended a decade prior had placed a damper on the growing clamour for reform. Anyone who criticised it was marginalised or silenced, and they were regarded as unpatriotic at best, or dangerous revolutionaries at worst. Of course, a slender minority recognised that some degree of change was required to stave off revolution.
Both the Duke of Wellington, who Charles knew personally, as well as the entirety of the House of Lords were still in stern disagreement with the idea of a reform.
Being raised in a home with only brothers and a strong authoritarian figure for a father, Charles had previously agreed with the House of Lords on opposition of any form of change.
After he’d married Emma, he’d seen a different side of what a lady was capable of. She was not only kind-hearted and nurturing, caring for him and their children, she was also intelligent, powerful, and a strong role model for their daughters, who were already growing to be independent. Although that thought may be unsettling to most men, Charles had no problem acknowledging how intelligent his wife was.
He often sought her opinions on matters that had been discussed during committee meetings, and he valued her opinion in the highest regard. Of course, he could never give her credit for the ideas and opinions she bestowed on him, regardless of how good they were.
Charles was still deep in thought while discussions occurred around him.
“Your Grace?”
The creaking sound of a chair beside him drew Charles back to the present and he refocused his attention to his current situation. The entire room was quiet, and he was met by more than thirty pairs of eyes staring expectantly at him. He averted his gaze towards Lord Barry, one of the few senior members who had the floor.
“You seem to be the only one in chambers who did not utter a single word or contribute at all,” Lord Barry said, pacing slowly in annoyance.
Since Charles had no idea what had been discussed, he had no way of contributing.
He inclined his head. “I have nothing to say, and if I may quote my late mother, if you have nothing positive to contribute, do not contribute at all.”
Unless that person had been herself. His mother, who they’d lost to ill health not long after Thomas had married last summer, had never been one to hold back an opinion.
Lord Barry stared at Charles, then he shook his head. “Since when? You are an opinionated man, and it is not like you to simply remain silent.”
Charles pursed his lips and rose to his feet. “I do not feel the need to explain myself to you.”
“You will address neither me nor the House of Lords in such a disrespectful tone, regardless of your title. Please do feel free to leave,” Lord Barry said.
Without a moment’s hesitation, Charles stepped away from his chair and departed the chambers. He was well aware of the ramification of his actions, but he was also aware that the repercussions would
be much more severe if he were to stay, especially given his dour mood.
It was certainly the lesser of two evils, and the best possible decision he could make.
ALTHOUGH SUMMER HAD ended a few weeks ago, the weather was still lovely and quite temperate, delighting Emma very much. She enjoyed the warmth of the season as well as being out of doors.
A butterfly fluttered by as she kept her gaze on her two eldest daughters frolicking around in the lush green grass of the meadow where they picnicked.
“Catherine, careful of the waterside,” Emma called out, gently warning her daughters to take special care at the edge of the lake.
Although the two girls were able swimmers, she did not wish for them to fall into the water.
“We are being careful, Mamma,” Catherine called out, holding on to her younger sister’s hand.
Emma smiled and turned to her two sisters-in-law, Rebecca and Abigail, who sat with her.
Unfortunately, Julia and Robert had already returned to London earlier than expected, due to Robert’s work as a barrister. It had been sad to see Julia leave but Emma relished in the fact that she now had three sisters.
“Are you feeling well, Rebecca?” Emma asked.
Although the three ladies were comfortably seated on a soft rug on the grass, with a beautiful view of the lake behind Finlay Hall, Rebecca did not appear as comfortable as she’d been a few moments ago.
Rebecca placed her hand on her swollen belly and sighed. “Not as pleasant as I wish I could be, but I am quite well.”
“It should only be a few more months,” Emma said, attempting to assure the first-time mother. “I recall being rather uncomfortable with Sarah as well, but only because she was a lively little one.”
“And it seems to still be the case,” Abigail said with a giggle.
“Indeed,” Emma said. “I had terrible moods with Lilly as well.”
“As did I with the twins,” Abigail said. “Although, I can only imagine it was because I had both a boy and a girl in my belly.”
“I still cannot believe you birthed two babies at once. A true miracle,” Emma said, and glanced at Rebecca, who seemed to grow increasingly weary. “Do not fret. One is much easier.”
A smile tugged at the edge of Rebecca’s lips. “It is rather daunting, I must admit. As this is my first child, I do feel out of sorts and filled with doubts. Will I be a good mother? Will everything be all right?”
“Of course, it will be,” Abigail said, and she and Emma placed their hands reassuringly on Rebecca’s.
“Would you ladies care for some refreshments?” a voice asked from behind them.
“Joseph,” Emma said as she glanced upward and shielded her eyes from the bright sunlight with her hand.
What was he doing here?
Joseph, the Earl of Lundham, was Charles’ cousin and resided in London, only a short distance from the Melton townhouse. Emma had always ensured that he was invited to most family activities, although he rarely attended. He was a very sociable man, a few years younger than Charles, but quite the opposite in many ways.
Where Charles was rather eccentric and strived for perfection with every step he took, Joseph was much more easy-going. His personality reminded her of Thomas’, but without the intense interest in fossils and antiquities.
Joseph was much more interested in his rifle collection, and of course, his other hobby—women.
Throughout her courtship and marriage to Charles, Joseph had always shown an unusual interest in her. And interest with which she did not feel comfortable.
Of course, Joseph was well aware of the fact that she was married to his cousin, but that certainly didn’t stop him from giving her more attention than was necessary, or even appropriate.
Like most of the men in the Melton family, Joseph was very charming and handsome. But it did not change the fact that Emma was married to Charles. She was not enthrallingly happy, but content with her life.
Not being deliriously happy in her marriage was no excuse to welcome or invite his attention.
Emma was raised since birth to be a duchess and had been taught to be polite, always. Therefore, she found that she was simply too mild-mannered to outright tell him to leave her alone, although she wished to do just that.
However, that was not possible without sounding rude and offending Charles’ family.
There was enough friction between her and her husband and she certainly did not wish to make it worse.
Joseph held three glasses on a tray and Abigail and Rebecca politely accepted.
“And one for you, dearest Emma,” Joseph said.
“Thank you, although it was not necessary,” Emma said, taking the glass from him.
“Nonsense. In the absence of my cousin, I do not mind tending to your needs,” Joseph said, and the double entendre was not missed by anyone.
Abigail and Rebecca exchanged glances and Emma cleared her throat. “Of course.”
“May I join you, ladies?” he asked.
“If the mention of childbirth and the symptoms of being with child do not cause you any distress, you are most welcome,” Rebecca said with a scoff.
Much to Emma’s relief, she watched as Joseph’s face paled and he swallowed conspicuously. “Perhaps another time,” he said, and quietly stepped away.
Rebecca began to giggle and shook her head. “It is certainly a good thing that women are the ones who birth babies.”
“Did you see his face?” Abigail asked with a laugh. “That poor man.”
Emma pursed her lips and shook her head, not saying a word.
“Are you all right, Emma?” Rebecca asked.
“I am perfectly fine. It is merely...”
“Joseph?” Abigail asked. “You do seem uneasy when he is around.”
She sighed, wanting to confide in her closest friends. “In all honesty, I am.”
“Is it because of the things he says, which can sometimes be in bad form?”
Emma’s eyes widened and she looked at Rebecca. “Have you noticed it as well?”
“He does seem rather determined for your attention,” Abigail said. “I do not think it is something to fret over. Is it?”
“I am not certain, but I am less than comfortable around him. Charles would certainly have many words to say if he knew,” Emma said.
“If it does distress you, perhaps Charles should know. He could speak with Joseph,” Rebecca said.
That was very true, however...
“We are all aware of how Charles tends to blow things out of proportion. I do not wish to upset him over trivial things.”
“Your comfort and safety are not trivial, Emma.” Rebecca frowned.
Emma sighed. She wished to address the issue, but she was not certain to whom she should speak. Charles was her husband, after all, and he had been supportive of her throughout their entire marriage.
But Charles’ biggest flaw was his inability to acknowledge her feelings. He did not consider her emotions when he spoke of certain things, and she had pointed it out to him on more than one occasion. In fact, this was one of the leading causes of strain on their marriage.
“I will speak to him when he returns from his business in London. I don’t wish to trouble him in to coming home earlier than planned, and a few more days will not make much difference.”
Would it?
Chapter Two
Much later that evening Charles picked at his supper with his fork. He was seated alone at a table and with his current state his mind, it was the safest option.
His late supper at the club where he was a member was only attended by a few gentlemen, and their conversations were kept to a minimum. The sound of a blaze crackling in a fireplace nearby seemed to make Charles feel more at ease.
Since his abrupt exit from the Parliament chambers he had not spoken to anyone and did not feel the need to. He missed his daughters and Emma, and hoped that the meetings within the House of Lords would conclude soon.
He looked down a
t his meal and took a small bite of potato, chewing it slowly. From the corner of his eye, he noticed two of his closest acquaintances glaring at him from several tables away. Charles ignored them, fobbing off his paranoia, but as soon as he heard Emma’s name mentioned, he focused his attention towards their conversation. He didn’t look at them, so as not to alert them that he was eavesdropping.
“I heard he has been spending more time at Finlay Hall than in the past,” one acquaintance said.
“For what reason?”
“I am not certain, but rumours began to circulate of Lord Lundham and Her Grace. Apparently, the pair were seen at various plays and even promenading at the beach.”
Charles’ jaw clenched. It had to be a mistake. Emma would not accompany Joseph, his cousin and partner in their textile business. The man was a notorious rake, as well as a dandy, and Emma was aware of this fact.
His wife was not the sort of person who would allow anyone to spread false tales of her, but Charles had been oddly unsettled ever since he had returned to London. Was the feeling caused by Emma and her secret excursions with Joseph?
Yesterday, Charles would have been certain that Emma was not capable of such behaviour, but at that very moment, Charles began to doubt Emma’s fidelity.
They’d had their share of disagreements, and at one stage Emma had even moved herself into a separate bedchamber at the estate.
He had said things that she had thought were insensitive, although he did not understand how she perceived it in that manner. Tempers rose and accusations were flung about, which lasted longer than Charles would ever care to admit openly.
Of course, his brothers had been concerned at the time. He and Emma had been married for quite a number of years, and they were still not able to see eye to eye on many matters. But what his brothers needed to understand was that both Charles and Emma were strong-willed and rather stubborn. They did not waver in their beliefs.
It was certainly no secret that Charles and Emma’s marriage was not built on a foundation of love, but rather on business principles and matters mutually beneficial for their respective families.
