The Duchess of Chittenden

By Heather Mar-Gerrison

This is the first in a new historical romance collection and introduces us to the Duchess of Chittenden - Lady Emilia.
Emilia is trapped in a loveless marriage to Isaac Wolseley, the Duke of Chittenden.
His guilty secret is that he is in love with his best friend and confidante, Levi and he married Emilia simply as a smoke-screen.
Emilia dreams of a life with another Wolseley man - Cousin Teddy, who she has only met once, very briefly, but has carried a torch for ever since...
When Isaac makes a decision to release them all from their current intolerable situation, he inadvertently sets off a catalogue of events that changes all of their lives forever.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Heather Mar-Gerrison
• Release date: May 7, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476406329

Heather Mar-Gerrison

I love to write M/M romance and as a sucker for a HEA, you're guaranteed one in my books. #happyheatherafters

Book preview

Prologue

Oh, good heavens! Humphries, the butler almost dropped his tray, which would have been simply disastrous, since it was laden down with the earl’s breakfast and newspaper. His distress had been caused by the headline on the front page. He slowed down as he started to read and as he grew more absorbed in the text, he actually stopped on his way to his master’s chamber and tilted the newspaper towards the window in order to get a better light on the page to read what it said.

"TRAGIC DEATH OF THE DUKE OF

CHITTENDEN."

The article went on to describe the rather odd circumstances of his death, which were more than sketchy, to say the least and then it went on to mention that he left a widow of only three months of marriage.

Having come to the end of the article, Humphries expertly straightened the paper again, being extremely careful to make sure it looked exactly the way it had been delivered and continued along the corridor, his mind working overtime. What would this mean for his grace?

His grace, Reuben Wolseley, Earl of Ramsden, was the only other surviving male in the Wolseley family. This would surely mean that he would have to take control of the duke’s estates now? Goodness, he wouldn’t like that. Humphries wondered if his master was even aware of the events, yet...

Straightening his face into a mask of perfectly practiced indifference, he knocked on the door.

Enter, called out a pleasant voice.

Humphries turned the door handle carefully, whilst balancing the heavy tray against the wall, just as he did every morning.

Your grace, He bowed and set about placing the tray down for his master, before pouring the tea and offering the toast and coddled eggs that his grace was so partial to.

And would his grace be interested in the newspaper? Humphries asked blandly whilst his keen eyes caught the piece again. He bit his lip, once again wondering if the earl was aware that his cousin was dead. He certainly didn’t appear to be at all overset, but as far as he knew, they weren’t a particularly close family so that was really nothing to go on.

Yes, I rather think I would. Reuben sat up a little straighter and put out his hand for the newspaper.

Humphries immediately handed it to him and then stood back, awaiting dismissal or further instruction. He didn’t realise he was holding his breath until the earl sat bolt upright and said quite clearly and without preamble, Good God!

Ahh it would appear that he didn’t know then –

thought not. Humphries cleared his throat. Is there something amiss, sir?

"It’s my cousin, Isaac – the Duke of Chittenden. He’s dead!" Reuben looked up, his mouth hanging open in shock.

The Duke of Chittenden? Dead, sir? Humphries rather thought that he would have been good on the stage.

Reuben, having recovered himself somewhat from the initial shock narrowed his eyes as he looked more closely at his manservant, Yes. Dead. He repeated, and don’t try to make out you didn’t already know. Your neck is all red and you’re looking damned shifty!

Humphries blushed and cleared his throat again before allowing himself a small smile at his master. He nodded, "Alright, sir. I’ll admit it. You got me. I did happen to see the headline on my way up from the kitchens. I simply didn’t wish to appear… insensitive, sir." He bowed his head slightly.

The earl seemed slightly mollified by his butler’s explanation and since they had pretty much grown up together he grinned at him, We were never really all that close, anyway, Isaac and I. I always considered him a bit of a ninny. Terrible shame though, all the same – and a bit of a shock.

Humphries nodded sagely, Ninny, he agreed, between you and me, your grace, he always struck me as somewhat… effeminate. He stopped abruptly. That had been rather insensitive of him, since he was the earl’s cousin and he might be a little upset about his demise, Begging your pardon. He added as an afterthought.

Reuben glanced up at him, one eyebrow raised, You know, it’s funny you should say that – I always thought so myself, He agreed, nodding. Frowning a little he added, Never could understand why he wed... He sighed and shook his head as if trying not to think about something.

Humphries allowed him to have a moment before he spoke again, "So, what does this actually mean for you then, your grace?" He asked gently. He didn’t wish to upset his master, but he could see that he was troubled and Humphries knew him well enough to know that he would want to discuss things to get them straight in his head.

Reuben rubbed his eyes and finally looked up. Please Daniel. Call me Reuben when no one else is around, won’t you? he gave him a slightly pained expression and then went back to rubbing his eyes, which was something he always did when he was feeling stressed.

Reuben, Humphries corrected himself whilst wondering why he ever bothered, since Reuben would almost immediately forget and would be referring to him as Humphries again in no time at all.

Oh, God, I don’t know, He replied, raking his hand through his dark hair, I imagine my solicitors will be contacting me before long, all excited and wanting to go picking over the bones, so to speak. This really is the last thing I need right now. It damned well looks like we’re going to have to move to London!

Humphries looked at his master in utter horror, Good heavens, Reuben, must we really?

Reuben frowned, "Well, I mean to say, we only actually have to go to sell the old place, and then we can return here, away from all that ridiculous society stuff and back to some sort of normality." He gave Humphries a fleeting grin as he visibly relaxed.

*

Life was pretty good here in the country for Reuben. He had his dogs and his comfortable – if not large – home and gardens. He had the surrounding woodland and if all that were not enough, a fiancée who was considered the catch of the county.

Admittedly, he didn’t love her, but she was reasonably pleasing on the eye if you liked blonde hair and blue eyes and one couldn’t deny, she had what everyone seemed to think he would want in a young woman – ‘good breeding’, whatever that was supposed to mean. Reuben wasn’t in the slightest bit interested in good breeding really; he just wanted what he could never have...

Cornelia, his fiancée, would give him an heir, he was sure, and he supposed that one day, when he had finally forgotten all about Emilia, he could always find a mistress if he so desired…

Yes. All he had to do was go to London, deliver the widow back to her family and be home again for the end of the month. As much as he was trying his best not to think about her, he felt a sudden stab of remorse at this particular thought.

Because it was Emilia – his cousin’s newly made widow – that was the real problem for Reuben. He had never even been formally introduced to her. They had met just the once, momentarily, in the gardens of a house that was hosting a ball. He smiled wistfully at the memory. He wasn’t even supposed to have been attending that night. It had been like magic...

He had been in the garden and suddenly, as if Cupid himself had been at work and his wish had been granted, she was there. It really had been like magic!

He couldn’t even recall now whether he’d actually spoken to her or not, but he had taken her hand in his and kissed the back of it before realising how totally improper his actions would be deemed to be if they were found.

He had hurriedly left. She probably couldn’t even recall the event. He felt rather foolish to have carried a torch for her for this long. Of course, she wouldn’t have felt the same way he did!

But he had seen her and had been instantly smitten. It was a couple of years ago, now but good heavens, she was a beauty like he had never seen before and to this day he couldn’t get her out of his mind. He often wondered (fleetingly of course, since it simply wasn’t proper to dwell on such matters) if she had been as aware of him as he had been of her, but then he pushed the thought firmly to the back of his mind again, because there was little point in torturing himself... Of course, she hadn’t. Why would she, when she was betrothed to his cousin? He hadn’t thought about her in two years. Well, not often, anyway...

He frowned; when he allowed himself to really think about her, he recalled her with amazing clarity. The dress she had been wearing, the style she wore her hair – even the fact that the ribbons in her hair were a different shade of blue to her dress... Where had that memory been hiding?

With a shake of his head, he forced his mind back to the present and back to his plans. With a decent amount of money to give her a dowry enough to marry again, his duty would be done.

The very idea of her marrying another man, however, darkened his mood. Just what was the matter with him today? He stretched his arms above his head and rolled his head around. Why did her face keep swimming before his eyes?

She had married his cousin. He wasn’t supposed to covet his dead cousin’s wife – and she wouldn’t welcome his advances, anyway. She would surely be distraught at the loss of her husband. They had only been married for what? Three months? The poor girl... He pushed the other unsavoury thought to the back of his mind that was this; why couldn’t Isaac have gone and conveniently died before he married her?

Reuben hadn’t been able to make it to the wedding, having had business in Scotland to attend to and it was something he had been very grateful for. He didn’t think he could stand and watch her marry someone else. He felt terribly guilty for his feelings, too. He should have been delighted that his cousin had finally married. Reuben had rather thought Isaac would never pick a wife. He’d been inseparable from his old university friend – what was his name now? Lenny? Laurie? No, that wasn’t quite right... Levi – that was it. He frowned slightly. Hmm, I always thought they might be a little more than just friends...

Reuben supposed he really should attend the funeral. Yes. That’s what he would do. He would go to the funeral and he would talk to his cousin’s widow. He gulped at the thought, but trying to push the image of her to the back of his mind, he continued planning in his head. He would recommend that she return to her family and then he would sell Chittenden Hall. He had the contacts to sell it quite quickly and painlessly. Then he could return to his comfortable life here in the country and (his heart sank to his boots) marry his fiancée. It would be a piece of cake...

Humphries! He called after his butler who was sidling out of the room.

*

Humphries stifled a groan and closed his eyes momentarily as he stopped in his tracks. He straightened his face and turned. Your grace? He inclined his head.

I will require some writing paper and a quill immediately.

Very good, your grace. Humphries forced himself not to groan anew. He had recognised the sudden change in tone and knew instantly it meant a doubling of his usual workload.

And will you stop with the ‘your grace’ business, please. Reuben growled irritably.

That is quite impossible when your keep referring to me as Humphries – your grace. Humphries replied, smiling blandly at his master.

The Earl of Ramsden threw his newspaper at his butler, who dodged it expertly and swiftly removed himself from the room before Reuben could pelt him with the pillows.

Curiosity however got to him and he poked his head back through the door. Who are you writing to? Humphries’ naturally inquisitive nature simply wouldn’t allow him not to ask.

Reuben looked up at him and smiled, I need to invite Valentine down from Aberdeen. He’ll either know some millionaire type chap, or he’ll want to purchase Chittenden Hall for himself!

But, sir! Humphries was outraged. You can’t sell your family estate to some Scottish landowner!

Of course, I can Humphries! Argued Reuben, looking at his manservant incredulously. This is the nineteenth century, man!

But... Humphries felt it better to let the matter drop. He couldn’t argue with Reuben when he had that look in his eye and it would be futile to try. Reuben was going to cause a bit of an old to-do in London, that was for certain.

I will also be requiring my clothes – just as soon as you’re ready. Reuben gave Humphries a small smile and raised his eyebrows hopefully.

Humphries nodded and made to leave.

Oh, and while you’re at it – tell Smithy I’ll need my carriage. We’re going to London. He had that look in his eye, which always meant he was ready for business.

Of course, your grace? Humphries sighed and added under his breath. Because none of us have anything better to do, have we?

Chapter One

Isaac, dear, Emilia wasn’t quite as comfortable with calling Isaac, Duke of Chittenden, ‘dear’ as she sounded to the untrained ear. But she felt it was right and proper to call her husband such.

Her marriage to the 5th Duke of Chittenden had been a long-standing arrangement between the Wolseley’s and the Bywater’s families, and it had never really occurred to her to question it.

Isaac was a nice man, not to mention very good looking and she had been young enough to be flattered by the whole ‘marrying a duke’ jealousy of her friends.

It simply hadn’t occurred to her before she was marched up the aisle that her marriage may not have been all it seemed.

She had been married to him for nine weeks, now. Nine very long, very boring weeks and she was beginning to lose the will to live.

Her days were spent sewing, walking around the extensive gardens – alone. Drinking copious amounts of tea and very occasionally meeting with her friend Helena Oswald.

Helena had married a simply wonderful young man and spent all of the time telling Emilia how very much in love she was and what a wonderful time they had together and that being married was simply marvellous. Then she would blush prettily and try to get Emilia to agree with her that marriage was simply marvellous.

Depressingly, however, Emilia found that she couldn’t agree, because in her experience, being married was even worse than being twenty-one and on the shelf. She had had such high expectations of married life with her very own duke.

He had been the perfectly attentive gentleman on his visits to her home in their courting days. Her mother and father had been delighted with him and her mother in particular hung on to every word he uttered and gushed to all her friends about the duke and what a wonderful life her daughter was going to have.

Looking back, she supposed there had been signs. He had never once tried to kiss her for instance – and Helena had said that Oliver (her husband) was always stealing kisses whenever they were left alone. In fact, she told her some other stories about what they had got up to when they had been alone, which had made Emilia blush to the roots of her hair and go hot in places she wouldn’t tell another living soul about. Isaac had most certainly never tried anything on like that, either!

Yes, she had to admit to herself, that following their beautifully lavish wedding day, things had simply not taken off... It was all somewhat different in the cold light of day, once the polish had tarnished a little.

The duke was indeed a lovely man. But the once attentive young man was now far more attentive to his best friend and closest confidante, Levi, Lord Waldgrave.

Emilia found it impossible to even think about asking her mother what she was doing wrong. Truth be known, even if she wasn’t highly embarrassed about the fact that her husband seemed to have moved Levi into his bed chamber, she wouldn’t have wanted her mother’s advice anyway – it would just be too humiliating by half.

After all, her mother and father were lucky enough to be a love match and had a wonderful marriage – not to mention the fact that her mother was brutal of tongue enough to tell her she was a total failure...

Her father had been great friends with the 4th Duke of Chittenden, Barnard Wolseley and for as long as Emilia could remember, it had been expected that she and Isaac would marry one day. It was her destiny from a very young age and she had grown up knowing that.

When she was young it hadn’t mattered much to her. She naturally assumed that she would fall madly in love with the duke one day, because that was what was supposed to happen, wasn’t it? And of course, he would fall madly