The Scandal of the Deceived Duchess: A Historical Regency Romance Novel

by Hanna Hamilton

  However, the projectile was not so much the problem; it had been removed easily enough. The regent’s physician had done proficient work of it. And thanks to his ministrations, the following morning, Jonathan had looked much better. He had even been fit enough to travel a few days later.

  Under pressure from Amelia, he had taken up Sir Thomas’s offer to convalesce at his Berkshire manor. Amelia’s father had changed a great deal since the duel. He hardly left his study, inundating himself with more work than usual. Amelia assumed that he felt guiltier than he could ever have imagined.

  During the trip to the country, Jonathan had succumbed to fever. Amelia could still hear his teeth chattering when she thought about it. His body went through twists of such agony as it alternated between blistering heat and icy cold spells that had battered his body as if it had been possessed by another being. There had been moments when she thought that she would lose him.

  Upon arrival, he had fallen into a deathly sleep after the fever had dropped. The Carlyle family doctor had conducted another examination only to find a bit of cloth from his clothing lodged in the wound. The prince regent’s physician had overlooked this. In many cases, parts of clothing in the body could be more lethal than the actual musket ball due to the bacteria that lingered there.

  After its removal, the fever resurfaced a few days later. Due to Jonathan’s weakened state, it was a lot worse than the first spell. And again, it subsided after a few days only to resurface again after its brief pause.

  Jonathan had not woken since his coming to Berkshire and that had been over a week ago. He alternated between spells of perceived lucidity when it appeared that he would look you in the eye, and deathly stillness when the rise and fall of his chest was the only indication that he was still alive.

  Even Amelia’s father showed genuine worry for the American. The whole atmosphere in the manor house was somber and depressing. Meals between father and daughter often took place without them sharing a single word. Mother had escaped this fate. She had decided to remain in London, but she was due to arrive this day.

  “Come on, Amelia, let’s go back to the house. Mayhap there is some change in Jonathan’s state,” said Anna, wanting to get her friend out of the cold wind and inside before it rained. There was no use in them both getting ill. And Amelia did look worse for wear.

  Amelia nodded wanly. She had not been herself in days. The day of the duel still hung in her mind like a malignant afterthought. It would not go away, it would not weaken, and it just stuck there like an ever-persistent shadow. She feared for the worst. Jake tried to put on a brave face, but she knew better – it was written right across his face. The situation was dire. Jonathan’s life hung on a thread.

  Amelia and Anna walked toward the large manor house, each one of them lost in their own thoughts. The Carlyle residence sat proudly on a minor elevation overlooking the surrounding parkland. It was a building of Georgian heritage. It was very large, made wide and relatively shallow in dimension in an attempt to make it look even more impressive from a distance. It was highest in the center with Baroque emphasis on the corner pavilions.

  Sir Thomas had the original sash windows enlarged and added balconies so he could step out of his bedroom in the mornings to enjoy the crisp country air.

  Amelia and Anna walked in the direction of the internal courtyards that stood beside the stables, and the functional parts of the building. It was where the servants entered. But members of the family also came this way when they returned home from the hunt or after walks on muddy tracks like the two women.

  “I will arrange for some refreshments to be sent to the library, Milady,” said Anna, reverting to her role as the lady’s maid. “I assume ye will want to do a little reading to take yer mind off of things?”

  “No, send it to Jonathan’s room. I want to be with him,” said Amelia, removing her boots.

  Anna nodded. She admired her friend’s loyalty. However, she did not think it healthy to always sit in a room with a sick man. She tried her utmost to reduce her visits, but Amelia would not be deterred.

  Without another word, they ascended the steps from the lower ground floor to the main residence where Amelia’s family resided.

  There was a large entrance hall that led to steps up to a mezzanine floor where the main reception rooms were located. Inside the manor house, the ornamentation was generous. The chimneypiece was generally the main focus in all of the rooms. They had been given a classical treatment, topped by paintings or mirrors, depending on the chamber it was in.

  Plasterwork ceilings, carved wood, and bold schemes of wall paint formed a backdrop to increasingly rich collections of furniture, paintings, porcelain, mirrors, and artful objects of all kinds. There was hardly any wood paneling as it had fallen from favor around the turn of the century. Wallpaper, including very expensive imports from China, was de rigeur nowadays.

  Amelia noticed none of it. Usually, she would spend a few moments to study the impressive art collection her father had amassed over the years. Presently, none of it interested her. Her mind was for the man she loved and for him alone.

  When she reached Jonathan’s room, she found her mother sitting by the bed. “Mother, what are you doing here?” she asked, incredulous.

  “I am here to apologize to the poor man,” she said, a look of sincerity playing on her features. “I never insulted him to his face, but I made enough remarks to you and your father, implicating his person.” She stroked his hand as she said this.

  Amelia tried to gauge if her mother was up to her old tricks again. Her behavior was not like her. She had been a broken woman when they left London. The person before her exuded vitality and a new purpose in life. What had happened to change her mood so?

  “He cannot hear you. He has been out of it for more than a week,” said Amelia, sitting down on one of the many chairs in the lavishly appointed guestroom.

  “Don’t say that…I am sure some words will get through to him,” said Mother.

  “What were you telling him besides apologizing?” asked Amelia, her curiosity piqued.

  The expression on her mother’s face lit up. “I was telling him about the rumors going about London. First of all, he has been hailed the epitome of a fine gentleman for his conduct in the duel. Everyone knows that he could have taken the shot, but he didn’t. He overcame pain and the desire for revenge because he is a gentleman.”

  “Anything else, Mother?” Amelia had never thought of it from that point of view. The people were right. Jonathan’s conduct had been exemplary and worthy of even royal blood.

  “Also, the Prince Regent has reinstated Jonathan’s title as Laird Mackinnon of Mitchell in absentia. It is even rumored that he will receive his family’s lands back and an annual stipend from the prince,” she said, clapping her hands. “And there’s another thing…” Mother tittered like a woman far younger than her years. “The Duchess of Waverly apologized for treating me so harshly in Hyde Park. I don’t know what came over her, but she nearly begged my forgiveness – isn’t that grand?”

  Amelia looked at her mother harshly. It would have been too good to be true for her to show a smidgen of compassion without having her own interests at heart. Now that Jonathan was confirmed a peer of the realm, he was suitable marriage material. “Mother, I want you to leave this room this very instant. How dare you come in here after you lambasted him with insults? Now, that he is recognized by the regent and all of London society, you deem him suitable?”

  “I did not mean anything by it. Can’t a lady admit when she stands corrected by the facts? I can’t help it. I was wrong. He is a good man, and I would be delighted if you married him,” said Mother, allowing for a few crocodile tears to escape her eyes.

  Amelia looked at her mother harshly. “I do not believe a word of it. All I can say is that you are too damn lucky. You do not deserve it.”

  “How dare you resort to profanity in this house, young lady,” Mother protested.

  Amelia go
t to her feet. “This is not the time for you to play the mother with me. Have you ever thought why the Duchess of Waverly begged your forgiveness?”

  “Well, I…I assumed it was because of Jonathan’s relationship with the prince regent,” she answered.

  “No, Mother. It was the Duke of Brandon who told the duchess off. You know that he is one of the most powerful men in England. He did not think it right that our family should suffer because of his son’s hurt pride.” Amelia pointed to the door. “Now, leave before I get really angry. I have had enough of your scheming.”

  “Amelia…Amelia…do you really have to shout so much? My head hurts badly enough already.”

  “Jonathan!” screamed Amelia, her hand covering her mouth. She stood frozen to the spot like a doe caught in a sudden light. He looked weak, pale, but alive and that was all that mattered. Tears of happiness promptly slid down her cheeks.

  “Is that all a sick man gets nowadays? A shocked stare and some tears?” He managed to laugh, but instead, he sputtered and nearly choked.

  This was enough to make Amelia dart forward. “My love, you are awake.”

  Jonathan frowned. “How long was I gone for? What happened? I remember shooting and then blackness. There were many faces and lots of noises.”

  “Shhh, shhh, you mustn’t tire yourself. Here…rest your head.” Amelia turned to her mother. “Mother, pass me the water,” she ordered. Jonathan drank greedily.

  “You, my Laird, are the talk of London. Did you know that the Prince Regent reinstated your family into the peerage…”

  “Mother, not now. I am sure there will be plenty of time for you to tell Jonathan about your good news,” chided Amelia.

  “O, Lord above…he’s all right!” Anna said, nearly dropping the tray she was carrying.

  “Yes, it appears the worst is behind us,” said Amelia. She turned to her mother. “Mother, go and fetch Jake and father. They will want to know of this new development.” Lady Felicity obeyed with alacrity and left.

  Amelia looked back at Jonathan. “What?”

  This time, he managed a small laugh. “I might have to rethink my marriage proposal. You have become quite the despot in my absence.”

  The color on Amelia’s face reddened. “I, I didn’t mean to…”

  Jonathan raised his hand weakly. “Say nothing…I like this side of you. There could be no more aptly suited woman for a ship’s captain than you,” he said, taking her hand and laying a kiss on the back of it.

  “Commodore,” corrected Amelia.

  “I stand corrected,” said Jonathan before Jake and Sir Thomas came barging through the door.

  Epilogue

  Planning for the Future

  Berkshire, England, November 1814

  Laughter permeated the breakfast room at Carlyle Manor. The opulent dining room was filled with enticing aromas coming from the elaborate sideboard laden to the hilt with delicacies. The people elegantly applying their appetite to this morning feast could not have been more content. Finally, as in Europe and in the Americas, peace reigned in this family and it looked like it was there to stay.

  It was a happy family affair - an intimate gathering of family members that could be construed as uniquely strange in present-day Regency Britain. Yet, it mattered not at all. After many differences spurred on by jingoism, patriotism, love, hate and an overall general misunderstanding about what love meant, people as they so often do realized that their shared strife was all for naught. Or was it? Sometimes, people have to travel through a storm to reach the so-called coveted land to be free.

  That was how it was for the Carlyle family. They had survived the squall of petty misunderstandings and nationalistic differences fueled by war to become one family. It had been worth it. Everyone present could not have been happier.

  “So, what do you think of the peace talks between our two countries in Ghent?” asked Sir Thomas of Jonathan. Since the duel, he had reclaimed his former girth and applied himself to his food with his customary gusto.

  Jonathan thought a moment. “I really think this is it. Frankly, there is no need to carry on the hostilities. The war will be at an end shortly.”

  “I agree. It has cost the Exchequer a fortune to keep the war going for so long. And besides, neither side has really gained much from it other than death and expenses,” said Sir Thomas, popping more food into his mouth.

  “Quite right. The merchants here are up in arms because of the halt in American exports of cotton. Also, with the war over on the continent, you no longer need to block American exports to France. The Royal Navy will resume its peacetime role thus reducing the need for able seamen. In other words, there will be no more impressment into the navy from the Americans.”

  Sir Thomas nodded his agreement. But before he could contribute anything more, his wife interjected. “Must we talk about politics and war at the breakfast table. There are so many other lovely topics. Like maybe we could discuss the family Christmas or the wedding next year?”

  Jonathan and Sir Thomas exchanged collaborative glances. It meant that they would meet up later in the day in Sir Thomas’s study to continue the discussion while enjoying a nice glass of whiskey or two.

  “You will be spending Christmas with us, my Laird?” asked Lady Felicity, looking slightly worried that that might not be the case. Despite the acquainted nature of the occasion, she insisted on using Jonathan’s proper title – some things would never change.

  Jonathan laughed. “Of course, I’d love to. Jake and I would be more than delighted to spend Christmas here. I have already written to my people in the United States, telling them of my plans since the war is more or less over.”

  Sir Thomas smiled at his wife while Jonathan talked. He could not get enough of his future son-in-law’s new title. He behaved as if it were his own. It had been confirmed in writing a few weeks ago, shortly after Jonathan’s miraculous reawakening. It had taken him so long to recover and still he was not yet fully his old self again.

  But what warmed him more than any title was to see how happy his daughter was. Her behavior stood in such contrast to when she had been Lord Templeton French’s betrothed. He could still envisage her face that had been riddled with sadness and forlorn hope. Presently, she was like a blooming flower.

  With Jonathan, she was a different woman – to be precise, she was herself again. She was her father’s little girl once more. Amelia effused happiness and purpose once again just like all of those years ago. Sir Thomas regretted what he had put her through, and all of it just to fuel his own dreams of affluence. He had apologized to his daughter and to Jonathan; so much so that his regrets had come to irritate her. She had threatened to get married to Jonathan in the United States if he said sorry one more time.

  Even Lady Felicity had taken to the American and not only because of his title. She had even confided in her daughter that she thought he was extremely handsome. In another about-face, she had commended his manners as equal to those of an English gentleman. It would take a little more time for Lady Felicity to fully open up, but she would get there in the end. Of that Amelia was certain.

  Also, Lady Felicity approved of Jake. To her surprise, she found a most interesting conversationalist in him. He had wit, humor and excellent timing when it came to entertaining repartee – she had claimed one evening how she enjoyed his company immensely. It had, however, taken her some time to get used to the fact of having Anna sitting at the breakfast, lunch and dinner table. Nevertheless, she was making inroads on that front as well. A few days ago, she had managed to speak to Anna as an equal for the first time.

  “So, what are your plans for today, Jonathan?” asked Sir Thomas, chewing on some kipper happily.

  “Amelia and I will be going for a ride. Your land is some of the most beautiful I have ever seen, Sir Thomas,” Jonathan said while stroking Amelia’s hand.

  Sir Thomas beamed with pride. “I was lucky to get a hold of it. The former owner fell on hard times. He was forced to sell
it. Such a shame when these things happen you know.”

  Jonathan nodded. That wouldn’t be the case in the American south for many years to come. Land prices were going through the roof due to the cotton boom.

  “You should buy some property in England,” said Sir Thomas, continuing on the topic.

  Amelia promptly squeezed his hand. Jonathan knew that she approved of her father’s suggestion. He needed to think some more on the matter. There was still so much money to be made in the South. But maybe his idea with the shipping company would really pay off if it had dual offices – one in London and the other in Richmond or Charleston.

  “It is worth some thought, Sir Thomas,” he said at last.

  “Good…that is very good. I always like to hear it when an idea is not immediately rebuffed. Except when it is an offer of purchase on my part of course.” He chuckled deeply and smiled. “It appears that what you just said put a smile on my daughter’s face. Why don’t you two young people go for a stroll and talk about it some more.” He pointed with his fork at Amelia.