by Bree Wolf
Forgotten & Remembered
The Duke's Late Wife
( #1 Love's Second Chance Series )
by Bree Wolf
Forgotten & Remembered
The Duke's Late Wife
by Bree Wolf
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, brands, media, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in fictitious manner.
Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Cover Art by Victoria Cooper
Copyright © 2016 Sabrina Wolf
www.breewolf.com
All Rights Reserved
This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
To Second Chances
Table of Contents
#1 Forgotten & Remembered
Prologue
Chapter One − A New Wife
Chapter Two − On Becoming a Governess
Chapter Three − The Proposal
Chapter Four − The Wedding
Chapter Five − A Journey Is Announced
Chapter Six − A New Home
Chapter Seven − A Mother After All
Chapter Eight − The Late Duchess of Kensington
Chapter Nine − The Attic
Chapter Ten − A Visitor
Chapter Eleven − My Love Leonora
Chapter Twelve − For Georgiana’s Sake
Chapter Thirteen − Business to Attend to
Chapter Fourteen − Return to Westmore
Chapter Fifteen − On the Other Side of the Door
Chapter Sixteen − The Christmas Ball
Chapter Seventeen − Mistletoe
Chapter Eighteen − In the Dark of Night
Chapter Nineteen − Leonora’s Diaries
Chapter Twenty − London
Chapter Twenty-One − To Save a Life
Chapter Twenty-Two − Upon Arriving at Camden Hall
Chapter Twenty-Three − Ellie’s Advice
Chapter Twenty-Four − A Kiss Owed
Chapter Twenty-Five − Unable to Forget
Chapter Twenty-Six − Leonora’s Secret
Chapter Twenty-Seven − A Mere Replacement
Chapter Twenty-Eight − A Kiss Claimed
Chapter Twenty-Nine − Desire
Chapter Thirty − A Foolish Woman
Chapter Thirty-One − A Memory to Behold
Chapter Thirty-Two − Amends
Chapter Thirty-Three − We Are the Same
Chapter Thirty-Four − Beyond Hope
Chapter Thirty-Five − A Crippling Fate
Chapter Thirty-Six − Answers Revealed
Chapter Thirty-Seven − A Blind Man
Chapter Thirty-Eight − You Won, My Lady
Chapter Thirty-Nine − Idle Gossip
Chapter Forty − Honesty
Chapter Forty-One − Return to the Willow Tree
Chapter Forty-Two − Confessions
Chapter Forty-Three − Guilt
Chapter Forty-Four − To Hell with the Bloody Vows
Epilogue
Cursed & Cherished: Read a sneak-peek
About Bree
Also By Bree
Dear Reader,
About the Book
One night, they found themselves under some mistletoe.
Now, he owes her a kiss. And she is determined to claim it.
HIS HEART TORN IN TWO, Graham Astor, Duke of Kensington, mourns his wife. As he distances himself from everything that reminds him of happier days lost forever, he comes to realize that there is one thing he cannot run from.
Graham needs a new wife, if only for the sake of his daughter.
DISILLUSIONED WITH LOVE, Rosabel only wishes not to remain a burden to her uncle’s family much longer. After seeing her parents’ love turn against them, Rosabel dreams of an independent life as a governess.
Then a stranger asks for her hand in marriage, and to her utter shock, her uncle instantly agrees.
Will Rosabel find love after all? Or will the memory of Graham’s late wife keep him from finding happiness?
Prologue
1801 England (or a variation thereof)
Wind whipping through his hair, Edmond Dunsworth, Duke of Cromwell, leaned forward, urging his horse to greater speed. Almost flattening himself to the stallion’s body as they flew over the hedge bordering Westmore Manor to the east, he still marvelled at the new light that had come to his sister’s eyes since he’d last seen her. Crashing through the underbrush, he spotted her up ahead, her golden hair sparkling in the sun that reached tentative rays through the foliage overhead as though hesitant to touch her.
“Edmond!” Her voice travelled over the distance and the thundering of their horses’ hooves as though she was right beside him. “Will you forfeit?”
“Never!”
A sparkle came to her eyes as her lips curved upward. “I shall be lenient if you surrender now.”
“Never!” he repeated, pulling his stallion around another thickly growing monster barring his path. “The Duke of Cromwell does not surrender!”
Her delightful laughter, like a brook babbling in the early morning air, reached his ears, almost making him reconsider. As much as he loved her, he had never granted her an easy victory. So he urged his horse on and soon pulled up alongside her.
Seeing him next to her, she too spurred her horse onward. “Dear brother, for sure you will not make me lose face.”
He laughed. “It is only us. And I swear I will not breathe a word should you lose this once, Leonora.”
Biting her lower lip, she leaned forward as the wind whipped through her hair and caught in her long skirts. “Leonora Astor, Duchess of Kensington, does not lose!” Her eyes twinkled as she glanced at him. “Never! Not even once!”
Although he knew how furious she would be with him if he allowed her to gain ground, his heart just wasn’t set on winning this race, but on seeing her win instead.
As the distance between them grew once more, she called to him over her shoulder. “Do not disappoint me, Edmond. Have you no honour?”
Her playful insult burned in his heart, and he once again urged his horse on. The path soon levelled out, leaving behind bordering trees and opening up to green pastures, glowing in the early sun. Edmond felt his horse’s flanks move as he pursued her. Soon, she was almost within his reach, and he playfully swatted her horse’s behind.
Laughing, she looked at him. “Not bad, dear brother! But will it be enough?”
As they flew across a sea of grass, swaying softly in the breeze, Edmond’s gaze softened, seeing her slender figure clinging to her mare’s back, moulded together as though one. Her blue eyes sparkled with mischief as she turned to look at him. For a moment, a long moment, they flew onward, side by side, eyes fixed on the other. A perfect moment. A moment that would stay with him until the end of his days. A moment that he would curse all the same. A moment so dear that it hurt to think of it. A moment he would see in his dreams. Again and again, hoping for a different outcome.
Before Edmond knew what had happened, she suddenly disappeared from his view, his eyes gazing into nothing, searching for a matching pair.
Then a shrill scream reached his ears, freezing the blood in his veins.
Instantly, Edmond reined in his horse. As he t
urned to look for her, his eyes swept over the green stalks, still swaying in the breeze−as though nothing had happened−until they came upon the carnage his ears had told him about a moment before.
His heart stopped beating. If only for a moment.
The white mare lay on her side, completely still, left foreleg bent in an odd angle. Dropping off his horse, Edmond rushed around the dead horse and gasped as he found his sister only a few feet away. Although the gash on her forehead seemed minor, the way she lay in the grass almost disappearing from view swallowed up by thin hands reaching from the earth seeking to pull her under, he knew the truth.
Lunging forward, Edmond almost bumped into her. His eyes frantically searched for injuries to tend to, but he found none. None except for the small cut on her forehead. Tentatively, he put a hand on her cheek and almost died of shock when she opened her eyes.
“Leonora?” he whispered, bending over her so she would see him. “Can you hear me?”
For a moment her eyes closed, and he held his breath. Mesmerized, he watched her chest rise and fall, slowly ever so slowly. The strength that had always radiated from her was gone, and like never before, he felt the desperate need to protect her.
But it was too late. Seeing her lying in the grass, broken beyond repair, Edmond hung his head as tears spilled forth.
“Georgiana,” she whispered and opened her eyes. “Georgiana.”
Carefully, he took her hand in his. “I will take care of her.” His voice caught. “I promise.”
Her eyes stared into nothing; she didn’t see him, but her hand seemed to relax. “I promise,” he repeated, not knowing what else to do.
“Graham,” Leonora said, her voice growing weaker. Leaning closer, Edmond put his ear next to her mouth to catch the last words he would ever hear her say. “Tell Graham, I…” − she swallowed and drew in a ragged breath− “I …”
“What?” he whispered, but as he raised his eyes to her face, he realized her light had vanished for good. He was alone.
Burying his face in her hair, the Duke of Cromwell wept.
Chapter One − A New Wife
One Year Later
“I do not understand why you insist on coming along?” Graham Astor, Duke of Kensington, asked. He barely looked at his brother-in-law, keeping his gaze on the scenery passing before his eyes. “I do not need assistance.”
“I disagree,” the Duke of Cromwell said. Shifting in his seat to get more comfortable, he leaned forward, squinting his eyes. “Do you have a young lady in mind?”
In turn, Graham’s eyes widened. How dare he suggest such a thing? Keeping his mind focused on the rumbling of the carriage’s wheels on the country lane, Graham continued to stare out the window.
“So, this is like going to the market and purchasing whatever strikes your fancy?”
Once more shocked beyond comprehension, Graham finally turned his eyes to the man sitting across from him. His blond hair slightly unkempt, one boot propped up on the bench beside him, his brother-in-law crossed his arms as though in anger, but his blue eyes twinkled as his lips curled into a mischievous smile. “So,” he said, “then tell me, what are you looking for in a wife?”
Graham swallowed. Was he looking for a wife? No, most definitely not. He’d had a wife, the only one he’d ever wanted. Replacing her seemed as impossible as the sun not rising in the east.
“Do you wish for a blond,”−Graham flinched−” a brunette maybe?” Edmond asked. “With blue eyes, or rather green?”
Setting his jaw, Graham once more turned to the window. “I am not looking for a wife.”
“I see,” Edmond said, and there was something in his voice that made Graham look at him. “Do you?” he asked.
Edmond nodded. “You’re not looking for a wife, but for a mother for Georgiana.”
***
Smoothing down her dress with shaking hands, Rosabel Lander climbed the steps to the stately manor hosting today’s engagement celebration. Finally, Viscount Davenport had selected a wife. While some voiced honest congratulations for the future couple, there were a few who viewed the spectacle with mixed feelings. Especially the mothers and daughters who had vied for his hand…and lost. It was all a game, Rosabel thought. Once more she felt her resolve strengthened to stand aside and not partake.
While her aunt and uncle, Lord and Lady Harlowe, paraded their children around the room, introducing their eldest daughter Elsbeth to yet another eligible bachelor, Rosabel withdrew into the corners of the large hall. Eyes traveling about the room, she found many straying outside into the gardens where large tables, weighted down by enormous amounts of food, had been set in the shades of the giant oak trees. After taking a deep breath, Rosabel tiptoed passed a number of her uncle’s acquaintances and, pushing open the French doors, finally found her way outside, enjoying the calm breeze brushing over her face. Out of the corner of her eyes, she spotted her youngest cousins amongst a crowd of children rushing to the banquet table, inspecting the food with hungry expressions on their little faces. Feeling a smile tucked at the corners of her mouth, she watched them, their carefree spirits lighting their eyes. Oh, how she wished she could join them.
“Cousin Rosabel!” six-year-old Lydia called, her cheeks flushed with excitement. “Did you see the cake?”
“Four tiers!” Beatrice exclaimed, her own face beaming brightly. “But we have to wait until they cut it,” she informed her younger sister earnestly. “Is that not true, Rosabel?”
Smiling, Rosabel nodded. “It certainly is. Why do you not play a game before you eat? I believe by then they will have cut the cake.”
Both nodded eagerly. “But you must play with us!” Grabbing her by the hands, the girls drew her away from her shady spot of solitude and out into the sun. Reluctant at first, Rosabel heard laughter rise from her own throat as she chased after them. Her young cousins had an uncanny ability to make her forget everything around her. Today, however, she should have shown some restraint as she was so harshly reminded by her uncle’s voice a moment later, “Rosabel! Do come here!”
Feeling the slap of his words, Rosabel stiffened. Before turning away from her cousins’ smiles and facing her uncle’s scowl, Rosabel drew in a deep breath.
“Yes, Uncle,” she breathed, seeing the disapproval clearly edged in his face. “Is there something that you require?”
Robert Munford, Baron Harlowe, snorted. “I require you to behave like a well-brought up lady.” He shook his head. “At the very least do try and do your mother justice.” Without another word, he turned and walked away.
Following him with her eyes, Rosabel found some of the other guests cast disapproving glances in her direction. She was sure they had overheard his lecturing her, and so she decided to withdraw into the shades once more, cheeks aflame with embarrassment.
“Do not mind him,” she heard her eldest cousin’s voice speak from behind her. “He does not know the meaning of fun.”
A faint smile crossed her face. “He is right. I should not have behaved as I did. It was unladylike.”
Ellie’s eyes searched her face. “Do not fret. No one saw.”
Rosabel glanced about. “I am certain I saw a few look at me as he did. After all, I am my mother’s daughter.”
Ellie snorted, “But you are not your mother. It was not you who disobeyed your father and shamed your family. They have nothing to hold against you.”
Rosabel nodded. Ellie was right; she was not her mother. And yet, hearing her cousin judge her mother so harshly in order to defend her stung. What had her mother done that had been so wrong? She had followed her heart. Unfortunately, her heart had led her, a baron’s daughter, into the arms of a commoner of little fortune. The former Lord Harlowe had never forgiven his daughter for disrespecting him, and his son carried on the torch, extending the blame from mother to daughter. After all, her mother could not be lectured anymore. Death had freed her at last.
“Who is he?” Ellie spoke, tearing Ro
sabel from her inner turmoil. “Have you seen him before?”
“Who?” Glancing across the lawn, eyes searching the terrace as her cousin’s nod indicated, Rosabel found herself looking at a young man of almost golden hair. An easy smile on his face, his eyes twinkled in the sun as they swept across the people gathered before him. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen him before.”
“Mmmh,” Ellie mused. “He is quite handsome.” Her own eyes glistened as she observed him from afar. “He seems very amicable, unlike his friend.”
“His friend?” Rosabel asked, redirecting her gaze from her cousin back to the new-comer. By his side now stood another gentleman, and while the fair-haired young man had reminded her of a gentle summer day with the sparkling sun shining brightly upon the face of the earth, his companion appeared like a black hole. His dark hair and cold, calculating eyes spoke of a monster hiding in the dark, preying on the innocent, waiting for the right moment to strike.
A shiver went down her back as his eyes met hers, and she averted her gaze without another thought as though afraid the cold in his eyes could turn her to stone. “There is something unsettling about him,” she whispered.
Ellie nodded, giving a slight shake herself. “He does seem unpleasant. Why do you think he is here? He does not seem to enjoy himself.”
Rosabel shrugged, hoping she’d never find out.
***
Letting his eyes sweep over the gathering of people on the lawn by the oak trees, exhaustion washed over Graham like a heavy rain. He did not see the sun or the smiling faces nor could he smell the delicious odours of freshly prepared food or hear the delighted giggles of the children chasing one another through the gardens. All Graham saw were people he didn’t know, people he didn’t care to know. And in that moment, he was grateful for Edmond’s presence.
“So?” his brother-in-law asked. “Do you see anything you like?”
Graham frowned. “I hope you are referring to the food.”
Winking, Edmond chuckled. “Do try and look a little at ease. This is a garden party, not your last meal before you meet the gallows in the morning.”
“I know.”
Edmond shook his head. “Are you certain? Your face seems to disagree.”
“I’d be much obliged if you would refrain from finding such joy in my misery,” Graham whispered, his eyes fixed on the horizon in the distance. How was it that some days seemed to never want to end? Sometimes he felt like the sun was doing its utmost to burn the life from him.
