The Curious Life of the Unfortunate Duchess: A Historical Regency Romance Novel

by Emma Linfield

  Herbert excused himself and Leonard was left alone in the study. Inexplicably, he thought of the wedding Herbert had discussed and was unable to shake from his mind the idea of attending. Their household was oft invited to galas and events but Leonard rarely joined in the festivities. If he were to attend a party, it was when he traveled to distant lands and he knew no one. To Leonard’s mind, there was little enjoyment in the same dull noblemen and vapid women he had known all his life. It was difficult to enjoy oneself with wagging tongues and scrutinized looks enveloping him at every turn. Yet, perhaps it was because his own union was nigh, Leonard found himself considering Lord Curry’s wedding. He turned toward the portrait of his father.

  “Well, Father? What say you?” he asked lightly. “Should I make an appearance with the family and stun the masses?”

  “Are you taking leave of your senses?” Catherine asked, fluttering into the room in a ruffle of lilac skirts and lace. “To whom are you speaking in an empty room?”

  Leonard did not answer her question but instead posed one of his own.

  “Catherine, have we been invited to a wedding in Fife?”

  His sister blinked at the abrupt conversation change but immediately nodded.

  “Indeed we have. Mother and I leave at dawn.”

  “I would like to attend.”

  The words surprised him as much as they did Catherine. She eyed him warily.

  “Of course, Leo…” she paused. “I daresay I am stunned that you would consider it. I cannot recall the last time you attended any such event. What makes this union special?”

  Leonard gave her a charming smile but he could feel a slow blush forming under the collar of his starched shirt.

  “I am soon to be wed, or have you forgotten? I would not mind the opportunity to observe a union before venturing into my own.”

  “I have not forgotten.” There was contempt in Catherine’s voice and her eyes narrowed warily. “How could I forget the miserable wench to whom you are betrothed?”

  “Mind your tongue!” Leonard said sharply but his tone lacked sincere anger. His sister’s dislike for his fiancée was hardly a secret. Priscilla herself was aware of Catherine’s deep disdain for her.

  “Sincerely, my dear brother,” Catherine said dismissively and waved a hand in displeasure. “You cannot possibly believe your fiancée has a single thought floating through that head of hers.”

  “Catherine! You are perilously close to arousing my anger,” he warned but again, he disbelieved his own words. It was difficult to feel anything but indifference toward Priscilla when he knew the match between them had been born from convenience. Even so, his keen sense of chivalry did not allow for Catherine to speak so brazenly and awfully about her. His sister made a clucking noise with her tongue and sat at the desk, her eyes shadowed.

  “As you wish,” she muttered. “I was bred to speak the truth. Father would not have had me bite my tongue in this matter. Forgive me if facts upset you.”

  “You leave at dawn, you say?” he continued, eager to shift subjects back to the issue at hand. “I must have the servants prepare for departure.”

  Catherine raised her gaze back to him, the confusion on her cheeks clear. Leonard did not fault her perplexed expression. He was not certain he, too, understood his own actions.

  “I will see that the servants have you prepared for travel,” she replied slowly. Leonard could see she wished to say much more but to his relief, she did not pursue it. He did not wish to be questioned when he did not have valid answers for her.

  “Is there another matter which brought you here, sister?” he asked kindly. “Surely you did not come here to discuss my impending marriage.”

  “I did not!” she agreed. “I hoped you would join me in the town this afternoon, if you are quite finished with your duties for the day.”

  Leonard smirked slightly at the naïve question.

  “The duties are never quite finished for the day,” he replied but he rose from his chair. “However, I am never so occupied that I cannot join my sister for a day of shopping.”

  A hopeful expression touched Catherine’s face. Clearly she had expected a rejection.

  “Truly?” she gushed. “Oh, how wonderful, Leonard!”

  A small jolt of guilt pricked the Duke and he realized again how little time he had spent with Catherine following the death of his father. The least he could do was allot a few hours to accompany her.

  “It is my pleasure,” he assured her and took her arm to escort her from the study. “I cannot think of a lovelier way to spend the day, after all.”

  Has the town changed or have I? Leonard mused silently. With Catherine’s arm in his, they moved about the streets but all appeared much smaller than the last time he had visited. His sister chattered in his ear as they walked but Leonard admitted to himself that he heard very little of what was being said.

  He gazed about, nodding at passersby who oft paused to stop and bid them good day. Catherine did not seem to possess any signs of the insecurity she had claimed upon his return home but he wondered if it was his presence which inspired the confidence she felt.

  “Oh, may we stop here?” she whispered and pointed toward a dress shop. “I see fabric which will make a splendid gown.”

  “You may,” he replied cordially. “I shall remain on the road and keep watch for highwaymen.”

  Catherine scowled.

  “There are no highwaymen in the town,” she grumbled although she knew it was merely Leonard’s excuse for avoiding the shop.

  “One can never be too safe,” he insisted. “I will guard you while you do your shopping.”

  Catherine sighed heavily but turned to enter the shop.

  “You are an awful shopping companion,” she muttered as the door closed at her back.

  “You may thank me at another moment!” Leonard called jestingly after her. Catherine did not turn around. The Duke smiled to himself and leaned casually against the wall. He reached for his pocket watch and noted the time.

  The shops will be closing soon. I must return to Brookside and tend to the last of my duties if I wish to attend this wedding.

  He found himself questioning his reasons again. It was absurd for him to be struck by an urge to go based solely on Herbert’s excitement on the matter. The attorney was much like a young boy in some ways, despite his high mind. Leonard wondered if he had not simply been caught up in Herbert’s infectious glee for the occasion.

  As he replaced the gold watch in his waistcoat, a breeze of air diverted his attention upward. A few steps beyond where he stood, two young ladies were walking, their fine dress depicting noble breeding yet Leonard did not know them on sight.

  “…and if they haven’t one here, Franny, we must do without,” the smaller of the women said, her voice filling his ears with a mellifluous chime. “We have traveled to three towns today alone. I daresay we cannot find the headdress you insist upon having.”

  She sounded as though was singing as she spoke but without a childish undertone. Her voice was simply musical without attempting to be so. Leonard pushed himself off the building and stared after them but all he could see was the tendrils of their dark tresses against the velvet backs of their gowns. They walked in slow, measured steps and Leonard was consumed with the urge to match strides with them. A few yards behind, a housemaid trailed after them.

  “But I long for one!” the other girl cried, her voice adopting the whine of youth. “Please, I cannot attend without it!”

  “We will find you another to your liking,” the first girl replied softly and Leonard was touched by the patience she exuded, despite her companion’s near-caterwauling.

  “It will not be the same,” the one called Franny bemoaned. “It will not be the same…”

  Their voices faded away as they turned a corner and Leonard stared after them for a time. They had not looked familiar in the least but Leonard could not still the notion that he had known the honey-voiced girl.

&n
bsp; Or perhaps that was wishful thinking.

  Momentarily, Leonard considered he was taking leave of his wits, first with his desire to attend the wedding and then with him staring after a faceless woman.

  “Are you well?” Catherine asked. She had appeared unexpectedly at his side and her words caused him to jump. He had been entranced by the sight of the girl.

  “Yes, of course,” he replied. “Have you finished? We should return to the manor. We have much to do before we leave in the morning.”

  There was a newfound urgency in him and he hurried his sister back to their coach. If the woman he had glimpsed was a noble, she would likely be at the wedding in Fife and suddenly Leonard knew there was no place else he wished to be more, if only to catch one look of her face.

  Chapter 4

  Frances’ mood had not improved throughout the journey to Fife, despite the family’s best efforts to alleviate her gloom. It was not until the coach-and-six arrived at the sprawling estate that she began to perk up.

  “Heavens!” she gasped, pointing at gaily lit manor house. “The party has already commenced!”

  “Indeed,” Elizabeth replied and stifled a yawn with her gloved hand. They had been traveling throughout the evening, and the hour was late. Still, she noted that her sister was right. Guests milled about the lush lawn, a boisterous mash of loud laughter and music. As the coach pulled to a stop, they were immediately met by three servant boys who helped them from the carriage and tended to their belongings.

  “What a spectacle,” Elizabeth’s father grunted but when she peered at him, she saw that he looked to be as impressed as she felt. “What a terrible waste of good money.”

  “It is romantic, Father,” Frances insisted, gathering her full gown into a hand to avoid tripping. “When I marry, I wish it to be as lovely!”

  Elizabeth and her father exchanged a sad glance. There would not be a wedding for the oldest Follett child but no one had the heart to speak the words aloud. Frances did not require a reply and she turned to David excitedly.

  “Come, brother. Let us dance!”

  “Frances, you must exercise patience!” Lord Gordon called to his eldest daughter. “Moreover, I am not certain it is appropriate in this instance to flitter about dancing.”

  Frances stopped in her tracks and stared at the Viscount blankly.

  “Why Father?” she asked innocently and Elizabeth could not help but smile. Despite her age of four-and-twenty, she was far too simple to appreciate the proper way of doing things. Lord Gordon was saved from responding as a dapper man appeared, his black high hat dipping over his brow to shadow his eyes. Elizabeth could see the harried expression on his face and she guessed him to be the house secretary.

  “Name and invitation,” he intoned, extending his white-gloved hand.

  “Percival, Viscount of Gordon and family. Son, Mr. David Follett, daughters, Miss Frances Follett and Miss Elizabeth Follett,” Lord Gordon replied as he retrieved the creased message from the inside of his vest. He handed the house secretary the invitation.

  “Welcome, Lord Gordon, Mr. Follett, Miss Follett, Miss Elizabeth,” he said curtly. He read the invitation with such disinterest, Elizabeth wondered if he had managed to peruse the words at all. Elizabeth felt decidedly unwelcome by his cold statement. The secretary glanced upward from the page and stared at them with cold eyes.

  “The steward will show you to your quarters if you desire to rest. There is a banquet laid out in the dining hall should you be hungry and drinks should you care to quench your thirst. If you require anything else, have the servants attend to you.”

  He spoke with such little emotion, Elizabeth was struck pondering how many times he had uttered the same words over the past day. Surely the guests had been arriving in hordes and the man was exhausted. A pang of sympathy touched her. Abruptly the secretary turned, eyes gazing about the long line of coaches and horses to see whom else demanded his attention. He released a tired sigh of upset.

  “If there is nothing else, Joseph will see you to your quarters.”

  He snapped his fingers and a young boy shuffled forward to reach for the trunks the family had brought for the wedding.

  “Father, may I dance now?” Frances pleaded. “I have exercised my patience as you asked.”

  Lord Gordon grunted slightly but Elizabeth could see he was going to relent.

  “David, will you mind your sister?” he asked relentingly. “I daresay I am much too fatigued to observe her wanderings this evening.”

  “Of course,” David replied although Elizabeth could see he was equally exhausted by the journey.

  “I will stay with Frances, Father,” she volunteered. “I would not mind exploring the estate. The Baron is rumored to have a fine art collection which I care to see.”

  Relief shone on both men’s faces and Lord Gordon nodded approvingly.

  “Thank you, daughter. Off you go before you lose sight of her. She is much like a toddler—off in the mere blink of an eye. Do not permit her to remain out too late. She must rest, despite what she believes.”

  “Indeed, Father,” Elizabeth agreed. “Good night.”

  Elizabeth did not need to be reminded of her sister’s aptitude for disappearing. When she turned, Elizabeth realized Frances had skirted off across the field toward the bright lights of the lanterns hung outside. She gathered her dress in the clutches of her palms and started toward the festivities.

  In truth, Elizabeth could have used rest of her own but she did not wish to put a damper on Frances’ enthusiasm. She marveled at the bountiful energy of her oldest sibling who had already flung herself into the center of activity as if no one watched her, swirling alone through the courtyard. Bernadette, Elizabeth’s abigail was forced to run to keep an eye upon Frances as always.

  What I would not give to have a fleeting moment in her mind, she thought with affection. Elizabeth stood in the shadows, permitting her sister the freedom to enjoy herself. A liveried butler stood nearby and Elizabeth was forced to look a second time to ensure he was not a statue. He remained perfectly still, his hand extended to hold a silver tray aligned with goblets. Elizabeth took a glass, noting how his eyes never wavered from a blank stare ahead.

  It defied reason that he was made of flesh and bones and Elizabeth could not help but stare at him with undue interest.

  “You mustn’t mind Charles,” a voice chirped in her ear. “He does not much care for parties.”

  She turned to face the man at her back and stared at him quizzically. She was stunned that a mere stranger would so boldly approach her without being introduced. As uncouth as it appeared, it would be much ruder for Elizabeth to ignore the forward man in her midst, especially one of noble birth.

  “Charles?” she murmured uncomprehendingly. The young man gestured at the servant who had yet to make one move, even to blink an eye.

  “Charles,” he repeated. “He has been a member of this household since my grandfather held the title of Baron.”

  Elizabeth realized at once with whom she spoke. It could only be Alexander, Earl of Cooke and cousin of Lady Fife, the bride-to-be.

  “Lord Cooke,” she murmured. “Permit me to introduce myself. I am Miss Elizabeth Follett, daughter of Percival, Viscount of Gordon. How do you do?”

  “And you are Miss Elizabeth Follett,” he remarked, a bemused but interested expression on his baby-face. “Although I daresay even without being told, I would know your beauty anywhere. I must admit people have not done it a modicum of justice. You are truly a vision to behold.”

  Elizabeth felt herself vaguely uncomfortable by his words, an underlying implication troubling her as he continued to speak. Bernadette was nowhere in sight, and Elizabeth found herself without a chaperone.

  “Thank you, my Lord. You flatter me.”

  “I only speak in truth. You will learn.” His leer was beginning to trouble Elizabeth but it was not a matter in which she was unaccustomed to dealing. She had encountered many men in her life who had b
een unable to see past her stunningly beautiful face. Lord or peasant, their overt gazes were the same.

  “Shall we dance?” Lord Cooke proposed and Elizabeth’s instinct was to refuse but she knew how rude it would seem if she did. Inherently, she was wary of the Earl but she was left with little choice in the matter, not when her father and brother had retired for the night. There was no one to rescue her from the offer.