An Unlikely Duchess

by Nadine Millard

  She sat up and bid Maura a cheery good morning.

  “Oh, my lady. You seem so much better this morning,” exclaimed Maura happily in her thick Irish brogue. “I was sick with worry for you last night. I’ve never seen you so blue devilled!”

  “Yes, well, one cannot mope around forever,” retorted Rebecca, somewhat embarrassed at Maura’s outpouring. She would never put the duke from her mind if she were reminded of her reaction to him.

  “Today is a new day, Maura. What’s done is done. And you and I have plans to make.”

  Maura began laying out a morning dress for Rebecca.

  “We do?”

  “Yes, we do. We are to go to London.”

  Maura paused in the act of straightening the pale blue muslin she was handling and turned to stare at Rebecca.

  “L-London, my lady?”

  “Yes, London,” answered Rebecca brusquely.

  “But, my lady – whatever for?”

  “It is time I found a husband.”

  Silence. Rather deafening silence, actually. Rebecca wasn’t sure whether to be concerned or offended. Really! Was the idea of her marrying so strange that it would render her maid mute?

  “A husband?”

  “Yes, you know one of those men with whom you share the rest of your life? Well. I am getting one.”

  Maura hurried over to help Rebecca out of her nightgown.

  “It is just—”

  “Yes, Maura?”

  “Well, you’ve never expressed an interest in marrying before.”

  “I am well aware that this must seem sudden.” It was sudden. “But I am not getting any younger and I know my duty. I must marry. I will never do that by spending all my time here. I intend to ask Father for a Season and I fully intend to be engaged by the end of it.”

  “Oh,” was the weak answer. A step up from silence, Rebecca supposed.

  “Oh, and a walking dress please Maura. I think I shall take my walk this morning. I need fresh air and some time to think.”

  I also need to avoid the duke, Rebecca thought, but kept that to herself.

  Rebecca stepped out into the garden and inhaled the fresh air and scents of early summer that surrounded her. She did so love her home and would miss it dreadfully.

  She knew every inch of this land— the gardens, forests and lakes. She knew the tenants and their families and could often be found in one of the cottages helping the local children learn to read or chatting with the wives of the farmers.

  Making her way to the partly obscured gate, which led from the garden and into the forest beyond, Rebecca felt a pang of sadness. If, or rather when she married, she would be leaving all this behind.

  It was the only home she’d ever known. She knew that the likelihood was that she would marry an English gentleman, would settle with him and would come here only as a guest. The idea was strange and not at all pleasant. She would have a new home. Be mistress of a new home. She who had once tried to assist her mother in hosting a ball and had ended up writing the wrong date on half the invitations!

  Rebecca wondered if her husband would have a large estate to manage. She could not do too much damage on a small one. Her father’s wasn’t exactly small and she’d learned enough from Mama to be able to run a household of that size. Balls and parties aside of course.

  She found herself wondering about the duke’s estates, sure that they were vast and plentiful. Oh, stop it Rebecca, she scolded herself.

  She needed to put that man from her head. A brisk, early morning walk before she broke her fast was just the thing for it.

  She made her way determinedly through the gate and down one of the well-worn paths through her father’s lands and towards the lake. She would soon pass a row of pleasantly situated cottages belonging to some of the tenants. Though partly obscured by a wall, the children were always scampering about and Rebecca looked forward to seeing their happy faces peek over the wall.

  They never failed to cheer her up and this morning she could really do with some cheer!

  The morning dew still clung to the leaves and made the forest floor beneath her feet damp and springy. The only sounds she could hear were the birds singing in the trees and the distant cries of farm hands.

  It was bliss!

  Rebecca could feel herself relaxing. These woods never failed to bring her comfort. She enjoyed the peace and the uninterrupted solitude.

  The sudden sound of a snapping twig shattered the silence and Rebecca whipped around to see who or what was behind her. To her consternation there was nobody there. A prickling feeling of unease settled on her as she continued to scan the woods behind her.

  Still she could see nothing. She laughed a little at herself. It was a forest. Any number of animals could have made the sound! Smiling at her folly she continued on her way, humming softly to herself and enjoying the freedom of not having to behave in front of an audience.

  She had reached the point where the path sloped downwards. In her youth, she would run down it until she thought she would never stop. The overwhelming urge to do so again had her hitching her skirts in quite an unladylike manner and running as fast as her legs could carry her all the way to the bottom.

  She shrieked as she gained speed and gave a shout of laughter at the exhilaration of feeling so free! Her laugh was cut short, however, when, on reaching the bottom she noticed a figure leaning against the large oak and staring intently at her.

  At first Rebecca did not recognise him. The uneasy feeling of moments ago returned and she felt the urge to turn and flee. Then, as the figure shifted and came slowly toward her she suddenly recalled whom he was. The feeling of tension did not leave her however.

  “Mr. Simons.” She smiled politely. Mr. Simons had recently inherited his uncle’s farm and had moved here not long ago. Though she was little acquainted with him, she knew that his uncle had been quite well off and was very well respected. Sadly, he had had no children before he passed and the nephew had come from the north of England to take over the running of the farm.

  Her father had taken Rebecca with him one day to meet Mr. Simons. His manner had been brash and impolite. He had stunk of whiskey and leered at her for the entirety of their visit. So much so that Father had forbade her from ever visiting alone, something she often did with the tenants. Rebecca had not needed telling twice however. This was definitely not a man she wanted to be around longer than necessary.

  After they had returned to the house, Rebecca thought perhaps she was being unduly harsh. After all, she did not know this man. And it seemed unfair to judge him so hastily.

  Yet, here she found herself quite alone with him and could not ignore the sense of fear. He said nothing. Just continued to stare, his black eyes boring into hers. Rebecca was struck by the thought that this was the second time she’d been stared at by a man. But the feelings the stares evoked were complete opposites.

  The thought gave her some relief. After all, what sort of lady would she be if she went around nearly fainting at every stare!

  He still hadn’t spoken even while Rebecca’s mind did what it usually did and flittered off to somewhere else entirely.

  I shall try again, she thought, polite chit chat then leave.

  “Er, I trust you are settling in nicely to your new life as a farmer?”

  “No,” was the gruff reply.

  Oh.

  “Why ever not?” she asked rather indignantly. The man had been handed a successful farm with the money and stability that came with it, on a beautiful piece of land and he wasn’t happy?

  He stared for a bit longer. In fact, he was starting to irritate her now. This was good. Irritation made her braver.

  He smirked slightly and answered her in his Northern England brogue.

  “The farmer’s life ain’t for me. I’d much rather do what I’d been doing until I was hauled back here.”

  “And what was that?”

  “Enjoying myself.”

  He did not elaborate and Rebecca did
not ask him to. She knew little of his life before he had come to the farm but from what her father had been told, it had been anything but virtuous. Certainly the Mr. Simons before him had never spoken fondly of him.

  He took another step towards her and Rebecca felt fear once again slam into her. Her instincts told her that this man was dangerous.

  “Well, good day then,” she said and made to move around him and continue on her way.

  He did not bow, tip his hat or return her farewell. She stepped around him and was about to continue on her way when his arm shot out and clasped hers.

  Rebecca felt a fear unlike any she’d ever known but forced herself to relax. It would do her no good to show anything other than strength and confidence. She was his superior and though she never liked to treat people as inferiors she would not allow herself to be manhandled by this stranger.

  She turned her head and eyed his hand on her arm then turned her eyes to his trying her best to channel Caroline’s icy glare.

  “Remove your hand,” she bit and was delighted to hear that none of her fear was evident in her steady voice.

  “I’ve watched you,” he whispered.

  His words froze Rebecca’s blood.

  “What?” This time, it was barely above a whisper but Rebecca was too frightened to care.

  “You are a fascinating woman, my lady.” His look, his voice, everything about him made Rebecca’s skin crawl. She needed to get away from him and fast.

  “I cannot help but watch you.”

  “Try,” Rebecca replied through gritted teeth. She pulled her arm from him and for one horrifying moment his grip tightened and he would not let her go. However, moments later Rebecca nearly expired from relief as he gave a short laugh and released her.

  Bowing slightly he muttered good day but did nothing to move away.

  Slowly, Rebecca turned her back to him and continued on her way. She would not run knowing instinctively that he would find her running from him immensely enjoyable.

  Much as she wanted to, Rebecca would not turn to glance behind her. She continued on at a sedate pace until rounding a corner. Shock and fear made her tremble from head to toe. She considered turning back but had no desire to come upon him again.

  Good heavens. How could such a thing have happened on her morning walk? She considered telling her father, but really, what was there to say? He hadn’t forced his attentions on her and the encounter had lasted only minutes. Her father would think she was quite mad.

  No, the best thing to do was put it from her head and take care not to walk alone again. She would be leaving for London soon, hopefully. Then she would not have to see him again for the entire Season, or ever if she actually married.

  Determined to put it from her head she made her way toward the row of cottages which housed a cottage belonging to Mrs. O’Dwyer of whom Rebecca had always been fond. Her children were a constant source of amusement and would serve as a great distraction.

  She reached the wall where Martin, her partner in the kite escapade of the previous afternoon, and his family lived.

  “My lady,” the whispered voices reached her from behind the low wall and Rebecca’s face broke out in a grin.

  “Hmm. I wonder who could be calling my name,” she called loudly making her way slowly toward the wall.

  It was a game they played often. Martin and his younger sister would hide behind the wall, quiet as mice and when she neared they would scare the wits out of her! No matter how many times they did it, they always managed to make her jump which caused much mirth amongst them all.

  Today however, she did not think her nerves would stand the fright so she decided to beat them to the punch. Staying as silent as possible, she used the uneven surface of the stone wall to climb up. Then, poised near the top she leaned over with a shout.

  The children screamed in fright and ran away toward the cottage. Rebecca doubled over with laughter. In her enthusiasm however, she had leaned too far forward.

  She was stuck! Balanced on top of the blasted wall! Her top half was leaning over into the small garden but, having kicked loose the stone she had been resting on, her feet were dangling over the edge of the wall with nothing to gain purchase on.

  How did she manage to get into these sorts of scrapes? It was really quite ridiculous.

  She called out for Martin and his sister to help but none was forthcoming.

  Bother! She could not very well hang there all day. It was starting to hurt in any case.

  Rebecca mulled over the predicament. All she could hope for was that Martin or Mrs. O’Dwyer would come out to assist her. In the meantime, she would try to move further down the wall and hope that her feet would land on something to hold her weight so she could jump back down. At least it could not get any worse.

  “Lady Rebecca.”

  Rebecca paused in the act of trying to wiggle herself backwards. This could not be happening.

  The voice was unmistakable having haunted her dreams for much of last night. She had been caught, once again, by the Duke of Hartridge.

  ****

  Edward had woken early that morning and had gone immediately to seek out his mother.

  He found her, unsurprisingly, already dressed and breaking her fast downstairs. She had always risen with the birds.

  “Mother,” his greeting was formal and emotionless.

  The dowager was immediately on her guard.

  “Edward, before you begin I must tell you –”

  “No, Mother. You must not tell me anything. You must listen. I do not know what exactly was agreed between Father and Ransford. I do not know how they convinced you it was a good idea to marry me off. I do not know why you concealed the truth from me and I had to find it out from Ransford’s incorrigible youngest.”

  His mother took a breath to speak but Edward held up a hand to silence her. He must get this out before she could manipulate or guilt him into being married by the end of the day.

  “I will not be made to marry anyone I do not wish to marry. I will not be used as some sort of trophy for the earl or his daughter. I will not be sold off as a husband to Father’s friend because of some ridiculous contract made, no doubt, when he was thoroughly foxed! I am not a piece of horseflesh, Mother,” he finished with injured dignity.

  The dowager bit the inside of her cheek to stop from laughing at her son’s indignant tone. “My dear, please consider, you have a duty to marry a suitable young lady. Lady Caroline is perfect duchess material. She will handle herself beautifully and her family could not be better. Your father thought only to help you!”

  “Help me? By deciding my future before I was even born?” Edward could hear his voice rising with his anger and he made a concentrated effort to calm himself.

  It would not do for anyone else to be privy to this conversation.

  “I know it is difficult to understand but, Edward, your father knew you would be subjected to the worst sort of husband hunting— hounded for your title and your wealth. I understand how shocked you must feel but the idea holds merit. That is why I agreed to it, after many discussions and careful consideration.”

  “How could you think I would agree to such a scheme?”

  “I knew perfectly well you would not,” retorted his mother. “That is why I did not tell you. I wished for you to meet the lady first and form your own opinion on her. You must admit, she is very suitable indeed.”

  Edward said nothing but went to fill his plate, though his appetite was truly suppressed by his anger. In fact, he was probably developing an ulcer.

  The dowager waited until he had returned and placed his plate on the table. Rather than sit however, he loomed over her.

  “She may be suitable, Mother. That does not mean I intend to marry her.”

  “And why not?” Lady Catherine asked mildly.

  Edward flung himself into his chair and crossed his arms.

  “I do not want to,” he mumbled grumpily, not unlike a toddler throwing a tantrum.

/>   “She would make an excellent duchess.”

  “Yes, Mother. So you have said. Several times. But so would a great many women.”

  The dowager decided to change tactics.

  “Have you not always done what is right and proper? What is expected of a duke?”

  Edward nodded resentfully, still sulking.

  “Have you not always said that dukes do not have the luxury of marrying for love? That they must marry for, how did you put it— less airy fairy reasons than ‘love’ and ‘passion’?”

  Edward was silent for a moment.

  “That does not mean that they should not get a choice in the matter.”

  The dowager studied her son’s face for a moment. He looked truly angry and upset. She knew he would not take it well, being as stubborn and independent as his father had been. She had not anticipated him being so very troubled by the idea, however.

  It had been a gamble but, given his stance on marriage, Lady Catherine had thought that he would be indifferent to who the lady was as long as she wasn’t objectionable. Much as it pained her to know his views on love, she could see that they held merit.

  A duke did have certain obligations and marriage to the right lady was one of them. Her dearest wish had been that he would fall in love with Lady Caroline. It would appear that she had been mistaken. She had watched them both last night and had not noticed any attraction between them.

  She had noticed, however, the way her son had looked at Lady Rebecca.

  The thought gave her pause.

  Certainly, she was from the same family. Had the same upbringing. Her beauty was quite breath-taking.

  The dowager had not had the opportunity to speak much with the girl. And it would be decidedly awkward if Edward developed a tendre for the girl when he had been intended for her sister.

  But her son’s happiness was paramount and she knew the Carringtons well enough to know that if either Edward or Lady Caroline were unhappy with the agreement, they would not be held to it.