The Reluctant Duchess Read online

  The Reluctant Duchess

  By

  Catherine Winchester

  The Reluctant Duchess

  by Catherine Winchester

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents, other than those clearly in the public domain, are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © Catherine Winchester 2013. All rights reserved.

  British English Version

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  Cover photograph copyright © HotDamnStock.com

  Cover design © Catherine Winchester.

  All rights reserved

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty One

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Chapter Twenty Four

  Notes

  Other Works by the Author

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  As Richard Armstrong entered Wyatt’s Coffee House, he found it much like any other coffee house he’d ever been to; perhaps it was a little brighter, a little more cared for but generally unremarkable. He hung his greatcoat on the hooks by the door, took a seat at an empty table and as he waited for his friend, he glanced around. There was a tall, sandy haired man behind the counter, keeping water boiling over the fire and preparing the coffees. Along the counter sat plates of sweet treats, cakes and pastries under glass tops. As his eyes were drawn to the chocolate cake on display, Richard thought what a good idea it was, to display the cakes rather than just having a list on a chalkboard. Cleaning off tables and taking orders, was a waif-like woman of perhaps 25.

  From the snippets of conversation that he could hear, it seemed to be occupied mostly by Members of Parliament. Given that the friend he was meeting was a member of the Whig party, that wasn’t wholly unexpected.

  He dashed a hand through his dark, dishevelled hair, sweeping the stray strands back from his forehead. His mother wanted him to get a haircut but whilst he’d had the back trimmed to collar length, he was loathe to cut the rest just yet.

  “A new face; what can I get for you?”

  He looked up into the most perfect face that he had ever seen. Her blue eyes were framed by black lashes, which emphasised their light colour. Her heart shaped face was likewise framed by a halo of black curls, parted in the middle and swept back from her face, although over each ear, tiny corkscrew curls, too short to be bound, tempted him to reach out and touch them. Her lips were full and pink, with a perfect cupid’s bow and he had the overwhelming urge to kiss them.

  Unlike the other girl, she wasn’t dressed in servant’s clothing, but rather a very fetching gown in sea green.

  “Just a coffee or are you hungry as well,” she prompted.

  “Oh, um.” Richard realised that he’d been staring.

  “Don’t worry about him, he’s just got back to this country, it’ll probably take him a while to acclimatise to our ways again.”

  That was Jonathan Rhyman, the friend he was meeting and as the serving girl turned and favoured his friend with a warm smile, Richard had the quite unexpected urge to hit him.

  “Lord Rhyman, how are you?” the woman asked.

  “Very well, thank you.” Jonathan hung his coat up before turning back. “Allow me to introduce my friend. Depending on your preference, this is the Duke of Hampshire or Captain Armstrong. Richard, this is Miss Wyatt.”

  To his surprise, the serving girl held her hand out for him to shake and only good manners made him grasp it.

  “Very nice to meet you, Your Grace.” She bestowed him with a smile that made his heart stop for a beat.

  “And you, Miss Wyatt.”

  “I was very sorry to hear about your father.”

  “Thank you,” he answered automatically, wondering how she even knew of his father’s death, and that she would bother to mention it after six months.

  “We’ll have two coffees,” Jonathan said, “and I know I’m too late for lunch but do you have any of your delicious stew left?”

  “I don’t I’m afraid but as it’s you, this evening’s casserole is nearly ready. It’s venison.”

  “Sounds lovely. Richard?”

  Richard had been too busy watching her to pay much attention to their conversation but he could bluff. “Uh, yes, please.”

  “And do you take cream or milk with your coffee?” Miss Wyatt asked him.

  “Neither, thank you.”

  “Black it is. I won’t be a moment, gentlemen.”

  Richard watched her as she weaved between the tables, spoke with the man behind the counter and until she had disappeared through the door to the kitchen.

  “What is a creature like that doing working here?” he asked, turning to his friend.

  “’Like that’?”

  “Don’t be obtuse. With those clothes and that accent, she clearly has noble breeding, so what is a noble woman doing working in a coffee house?”

  “Sorry, sometimes I forget that you’ve been away for so long. It was quite the scandal at the time. In fact, I’m surprised you didn’t hear, even in the Army.”

  “So tell me now,” he was growing impatient.

  Jonathan smiled, clearly enjoying teasing his friend. “She is Lady Annabelle Wyatt, the daughter of William Wyatt, the Marquess of Dorset.”

  Richard took a deep, calming breath. “And she’s here because?”

  “Of primogeniture.” Jonathan stopped teasing and grew sombre. “She is the only offspring from Wyatt’s second marriage and when he died, the eldest son got everything. Thankfully, she was only 16, so she inherited her dowry, which she used to buy herself and her mother a house in London and lease this place.”

  “Why on earth doesn’t her brother look after her? He can’t be happy that she’s a serving wench?”

  “Ah well, rumour has it that there was a family rift.”

  They ceased their conversation as the man behind the counter brought their coffees over.

  “Thank you, Frederick,” Jonathan said, then returned his attention to his friend. “Apparently, her brother didn’t like his new step mother one bit, so much so that he was banished from the estate for over a decade.”

  “And he won’t help his sister because of who her mother is?”

  “So I gather.”

  Richard refrained from asking any further questions when he saw the door to the kitchen open and Annabelle reappear, carrying a tray. She set the edge of the tray against their table and served them two bowls of venison stew with fresh bread.

  “There, enjoy your food gentlemen.” She turned away.

  “Thank you, Lady Wyatt.” Richard smiled at her

  Annabelle turned back but her smile was no longer genuine. “Just ‘Miss’, please.”

  “But you’re a Lady!”


  “I am a coffee house owner and cook,” she said with serenity, although her eyes seemed to flash with anger. “Please excuse me, Sir.”

  He watched her as she headed over to another table, where customers had attracted her attention.

  “Strange woman.” Richard commented, his eyes following her again until she went into the kitchen and was blocked from his view. He turned back to his friend, who was smiling at him. “What?”

  “Don’t give me ‘what’ Richard, I am your oldest friend, remember? On this occasion however, I’m afraid that you will be disappointed. Miss Wyatt has received many offers over the years, and I have never known her to accept a single one.”

  “Why should that disappoint me? She merely ignites my curiosity, that’s all.”

  “Of course,” Jonathan agreed, although he sounded disbelieving.

  “So, what was it that you wanted to discuss?” he asked as he turned away from the kitchen door, determined to pay Miss Annabelle Wyatt no further mind.

  “Lord Melbourne would like to meet you. He asked me to set something up.”

  “Me? Why?”

  “Ostensibly to discuss the Portuguese Civil War but honestly, I think he’s more interested in seeing if you might consider a political career in the future.”

  “I’ve only been back a week, Jon.”

  “True but you are a Duke and you have served you country. He wants to try and snap you up before the Tories sink their teeth into you.”

  “My father’s estate hasn’t even been settled yet.”

  “But your peerage entitles you to sit in the House of Lords.”

  “After seven years in the Army, I think that I might like a few month to, what did you call it? Acclimatise to our ways again?”

  “Relax, Richard, you won’t be called upon until the next election.”

  “Please,” Richard scoffed. “Lord Grey has resigned, Lord Melbourne replaced him but there is already talk that the King is dissatisfied and might dismiss him in favour of Robert Peel. It sounds to me as if Parliament could be dissolved at any time.”

  “So,” Jonathan said with a smile, “your head hasn’t been completely in the sand then?”

  “My head is never in the sand,” he answered with a sad smile. “Tell Lord Melbourne that I will arrange to see him next week. Right now I need some time to settle in.”

  “Of course. Now eat your casserole before it gets cold.”

  Annabelle headed through to her office with a pot of tea and slice of cake, grateful for the chance to sit down for a little while before the afternoon deliveries. Her cakes and pastries were quite popular among some London ladies, so each day between three and four in the afternoon, she made house calls with special orders.

  She set about preparing her cup but her respite was not to last, as there came a knock at the door. She sighed before calling for them to come in.

  To her surprise, it wasn’t Minnie or Ethel standing there, but the gentleman she had been introduced to earlier. With his dark hair and dark eyes, he was a handsome man no doubt, but his insistence that she use her courtesy title earlier had irked her. Still, she couldn’t help but admire the fine figure that he cut as he stood in the doorway.

  “Can I help you?” she asked briskly, rising to her feet.

  “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to intrude.” Despite his words, he came in and closed the door behind himself.

  Annabelle gestured to the seat opposite her desk as she sat down.

  “What can I do for you, Your Grace?”

  “I got the impression that I offended you earlier and I wanted to apologise.”

  “You have nothing to apologise for,” she assured him.

  Richard didn’t believe her but he didn’t want to start an argument either. “This is a fine establishment you have here.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I must ask though, why does a woman of your stature work at all?”

  “You think I should enter the workhouse?”

  “No, no, not at all! What I mean is, won’t one of your relatives offer you shelter? Surely if your brother knew what you had been reduced to-“

  “He would do nothing,” she interrupted him. “And besides, who says that I would even accept his help if he offered it?”

  “But… Why ever not?”

  “I have my reasons, Sir.” She got to her feet. “Perhaps you believe that I have been reduced and certainly many others share your sentiments but as far as I am concerned, I do an honest day’s work for an honest day’s pay. I am able to keep myself, my mother and a few servants and I see nothing wrong with that. In fact, I believe it far preferable to living off the charity of a relative.”

  “Then why don’t you marry? Surely a woman of your beauty must have suitors, even without a dowry.”

  “So that I might hand what few worldly possessions I do have over to my husband, and trust that he will do right by me and my mother?”

  “A husband would do right by you, and your mother!”

  “And when you are proved wrong, Sir, what am I to do then? How do I reclaim what is rightfully mine? Will you reclaim it for me? Because the law will cease to recognise me as a human being.”

  “But surely you will only marry someone that you trust!”

  He was becoming agitated but his words actually cooled Annabelle’s temper and she looked at him with pity.

  “I have trusted only a few people in my life, Your Grace, and each and every one of them has betrayed me in some way.”

  “But surely there must be someone that you trust?”

  “Yes, exactly four people.”

  “And will none of them marry you?”

  Annabelle smiled as she came around the desk. “Three of them are women and I honestly don’t think that Frank, my barman, would be interested in marriage to me.”

  Richard was stunned. “And your mother allows this behaviour?”

  Her smile faltered. “No, she does not. In fact she hates my independence, she believes it to be most unladylike. In all honesty, she rarely tolerates my presence these days.”

  The pain in her voice made him want to weep for her.

  “And yet you still stand by her,” he said softly.

  “I’m all she has,” she answered simply.

  Richard looked at the girl before him, an angel if ever there was such a thing, and all he wanted to do was to take her pain away. He stepped closer and Annabelle looked up, startled by his proximity but as she met his gaze, she found herself unable to step away.

  “And who do you have?” he asked softly. “Who do you lean on when times are hard? Who comforts you?”

  Annabelle felt very strange looking up into this man’s eyes. Her breathing was shallow, her skin felt flushed and she had the most delightful feeling in the pit of the stomach. It was a heady feeling but most pleasant. Although she had felt nothing like it before, she instinctively knew that it was dangerous.

  “I… I don’t need anyone, Your Grace.” She tried to sound strong but her voice wouldn’t comply.

  He took another step towards her and she stepped back.

  “You’re lying,” he said, his own voice sounding different, deep and intoxicating. “And call me Richard, please.”

  Annabelle backed up another step and Richard matched her.

  “Everyone needs someone,” he continued, his voice conjuring up all sorts of desire within her.

  “Not me,” she assured him, although she sounded far from certain.

  She had backed up to the wall now and he placed is hands on either side of her, trapping her.

  Richard looked down at her, drinking in her features as he slowly lowered his head. She looked startled but not afraid and when she didn’t push him away, he gently pressed his lips to hers.

  Annabelle let out a tiny whimper, which only fuelled the fire within him, so he gathered her in his arms and pulled her against him, then he deepened the kiss.

  Annabelle knew that she should be fighting him but his ki
ss felt so good and her body wouldn’t listen to her mind. She kissed him back, wondering how a man that she hardly knew could ignite such passion within her, passion that until now, she didn’t know she had.

  Finally sense returned to her and she placed her hands on his shoulder and began to push. He wouldn’t be moved however, no matter how hard she tried. Panic began to replace joy and she stopped responding to the kiss and finally, he pulled away.

  His expression was questioning, asking her why she had ended the kiss. Her answer was a sharp slap across his cheek.

  “How dare you!”

  Richard stepped away. “How dare I?” he yelled. “You wanted that as much as I did!”

  “You are wrong and I will thank you to leave now, before I summon the police!”

  “Ha!” he answered. “The trouble with you is that you don’t know what you want!”

  “You think that just because I am in trade, that you are free to do with me as you wish? Because I can assure you, Your Grace, that whilst I do my utmost to give a good service, I am not on the menu! How dare you contrive a meeting, only to force your advances on me? No matter how reduced my circumstances, I am not for sale!”

  “You think that I want to buy you?” He sounded genuinely offended.

  “Why else would you ask so many questions about my situation? But no I don’t think that you want to buy me, I think that you would prefer it if I were free!”

  “I am only trying to help you, can’t you see that?”

  “Why would you want to help me?”

  “Because I like you.”

  “You don’t even know me!” she spat. “You were trying to help yourself, is more likely.”

  “You insufferable, stubborn, bull-headed woman!” he yelled and with that, he stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind him.

  Annabelle made her way back to her chair on shaking legs and sat down. A tentative knock came at the door moments later, too tentative to be the Duke of Hampshire come back.

  “Come in.”

  Ethel stood there looking worried. “Are you all right, ma’am? Only, we heard loud voices.”

  “I’m fine, thank you Ethel. His Grace just got a bit ahead of himself. It’s nothing I haven’t dealt with before.”