Against All Odds

By Luis Ammerman

Hazel is a baron's daughter, but after losing both parents, she's stuck living with her unlikable stepmother. Penniless, Hazel spends her days doing chores but dreams of finding a handsome husband to take her away from her fruitless life.

 

The Duke of Caldwell isn't interested in marrying the first woman who comes along. He wants someone beautiful and unique—someone who embodies the properties of his late mother. But women like that don't come along too often, so he bides his time in hopes he will find someone to share his life with.

 

When his carriage breaks down and a beautiful woman stops to assist, he knows he's found the woman for him. But courting her proves to be a challenge because Hazel's stepmother interferes at every turn. Just when Hazel finally thinks she'll find true happiness, a shocking turn of events results in her losing everything.

 

But some things are worth fighting for. But how long will Hazel fight before she admits defeat?

• Language: English
• Publisher: T&L Publishing
• Release date: May 11, 2021
• ISBN: 9798223081661

Luis Ammerman

Luis Ammerman has always loved reading, writing, and history. For many years he has written short stories, fiction, and has worked on his true love and passion—romance novels. In every era there is the chance for romance, and Luis enjoys exploring many different time periods, cultures, and geographic locations. No matter when or where, love can always prevail. He has a particular soft spot for history and love in his stories. Luis was born and raised in Florida but now lives and writes in the Mountains of Tennessee. He is the author of In The Arms of The Enemy, Against All Odds, The Secret Behind Sycamore Hills and Amarillo Sky.

Book preview

ONE

Sallington, Outside London—1811

Spring was Hazel’s favorite time of the year. She loved the fragrance that assailed her nostrils whenever she walked by the garden. The beautiful flowers in varying colors never failed to give her joy. Roses were her favorite although she had taken a liking to daisies recently.

Her father used to say that she ought to like daisies because they reminded him of her.

Your mother and I should have named you Daisy. The white petals bear a resemblance to your creamy white skin while the yellow inside reflects the beauty of your blonde hair. her father used to say. Then he would sigh and add, But as soon as we saw your striking hazel eyes, we had no doubt what to call you.

Tears stung her eyes. Oh, Papa, I miss you so much. Why did death take you away from me?

She rapidly blinked away her tears. It was such a beautiful day; she wasn’t going to cry. She had enjoyed fifteen years of her life with her father before he died in a tragic carriage accident.

Live life, my little pet. he would say, tapping her nose, for no one knows tomorrow.

Indeed, no one knew what life had to offer. She had known that when she was five that the strange illness that consumed her mother would eventually lead to her death. Although the incident happened thirteen years ago when she was young, Hazel could still remember her mother well.

What she recalled most about her mother was her natural fragrance whenever she entered a room. The scent of flowers usually filled the room and brought a smile to her face.

You look just like your mother, God rest her sweet soul. her father was fond of saying with tears in his eyes. I wish God had given us more time to spend with her. The two of you would have been mistaken for twins.

Hazel would laugh and stare at the portrait of her mother. True to her father’s words, she had grown to be just like her mother. The servants always told her that she gave them a fright sometimes whenever she entered a room unexpectedly.

Good God. I thought Lady Marie just walked in. Old Burns, the gardener had cried one day.

Hazel found it odd that even after all these years, the servants hadn’t forgotten her mother.

That’s because she was the best lady there was. She was sweet, kind, and gentle. Your father chose well when he married her. Unfortunately, that evil ailment that defied all medicine stole her from us all. Cook had dabbed at her eyes with her apron.

Hazel reached for the locket attached to a washed-out chain at her neck and opened it. She peered at the portrait of her late parents with sadness.

Her father had been a handsome man. He was tall, slim with black hair, and a slightly crooked nose. Without a doubt, the late Baron of Sallington had been an attractive man.

Her mother had also been stunningly beautiful and Hazel was glad that she looked like her. She had taken after her mother’s average height, blonde hair, heart-shaped face, rosy cheeks, rosebud lips, button nose, and pale skin. The only difference between them was her eyes. It appeared that she had taken both of her parents’ eyes. Her father had had brown eyes, while her mother had had green eyes from her part Scottish roots.

Hazel, however, didn’t like the attention her eye color brought her. She used to get teased a lot when she was a child. The boys used to call her ‘confused eyes’ because the color changed with her mood.

She would go home and cry to her mother that the neighbors’ children were making fun of her.

Her mother would smile and place a kiss on her forehead. You’re unique, my pumpkin. Never forget that. They don’t know that you’re simply different.

Those words usually lifted her spirits, and eventually, she got used to being different.

Just then a waft of cool breeze blew her way, bringing along with it the fragrance of the flowers in the garden a few feet away.

Oh, what bliss. She sighed with a smile on her face.

This was her favorite time of the day. Even though the sun was shining brightly in the sky, she didn’t shy away from its intensity. The spring shower had been constant for the past three days. It was the first time in a week that the sun chose to bestow Sallington with its heat, and she meant to bask in its warmth.

She turned on the bench to lie on her stomach and engage in her favorite pastime. She enjoyed daydreaming of a handsome and loving man just like her father who would come and take her away from the Sallington manor.

Her friend, Rose Wilkinson, continually told her that she read too many books, hence her reason for constantly imagining a life outside the one she has a present.

Hazel acknowledged that it might be true but there was no harm in wishing for a life better than the one she presently has. Although she was thankful for a roof over her head and a belly with food no matter how small, she wished for something better.

Hazel!

She jumped with a start as she heard hurried footsteps coming her way.

Hazel! If I catch you idling about, so help me, I will take a switch to you!

Hazel’s heart beat rapidly against her chest at the threat that Lady Catherine Moore, her stepmother, would no doubt carry out.

Oh, dear. She had spent too much time resting from all the chores she had done all day. Her stepmother would be very cross with her. She quickly picked up the flower vase from the ground and waited for the verbal onslaught that was sure to come.

There you are, you lout! Lady Sallington shrieked immediately once she set eyes on Hazel.

Hazel looked at the tall, slim woman with black hair, cold blue eyes, pointed nose, pinched cheeks, and thin lips that had formed a straight line. Her stepmother was garbed in a lovely yellow muslin gown.

Stepmother—

Hazel was stunned into silence when the woman strode forward and struck her on the cheek. Gasping, even though she knew she should have expected it, Hazel took a step back.

The woman placed her hands on her hips and glared at her. How many times have I told you not to call me stepmother? I’m not your mother! The word should never roll off your tongue in my vicinity.

I’m sorry, Lady Sallington. I didn’t mean to upset you. Hazel hastily apologized because if she didn’t, she would face a worse treatment. She lowered her head as well.

Eyeing Hazel’s reddened cheek with satisfaction, her stepmother replied, What have you been doing? her eyes shifted to the bench. Lazing about I see. Well, no dinner for you tonight.

Hazel’s head jerked up. But step...I beg your pardon, I mean Lady Sallington...I have been working all day. I only rested for a little while after picking flowers for your drawing room.

Smiling sweetly at her which was a telltale sign to Hazel that the woman was thinking of something devious for her to do, she asked, Pray tell Hazel. What is it that you have been doing all day?

Hazel swallowed tautly. I cleaned the chimney. she began, and looked ruefully at her hands soiled with soot. I also swept and mopped all the rooms in the manor. I polished the silver like you asked me to and a host of other things to trivial to mention.

Laughing softly, Lady Sallington said, And, to you, you’ve kept busy all day doing those.

Hazel nodded. I haven’t even had a bite save for the small piece of toast I got from your leftover breakfast.

Her stepmother’s color heightened at her words. I will instruct Cook from now on to give my left overs to the dogs. You will not indulge in meals since you’ve chosen to be lazy.

Hazel’s eyes widened at the woman’s wickedness. For the umpteenth time, she wondered why her father, who had made wise decisions all his life, chose to marry Lady Catherine.

When her father brought the lady home when she was ten, along with two little girls, Hazel had been overjoyed. She had thought that she would not only have a new mother but sisters as well. The Sallington manor did get lonely sometimes even though the servants doted on her.

She soon came to realize that Mary and Anna weren’t interested in her being their friend let alone their sister. It had come as a shock to her when they did things to get her into trouble. But her father loved her and knew her, and so never really believed them.

Lady Catherine, when her father was within proximity, was all sweet and rosy, but whenever he was away, she made Hazel’s life a living hell.

Hazel hadn’t said a word about the ill-treatment to her father because Lady Catherine never failed to threaten her with poison.

She had been devastated when the news of her father’s carriage accident reached her. He had been her only protector, her safe haven.

Immediately after his funeral, Lady Catherine had ordered her out of her lovely room to the servant’s quarters. Mary had moved into the room.

Her stepmother had sacked most of the servants, leaving only a few. She had also made Hazel put on a maid’s uniform and assigned her maid’s duties. So, instead of her lovely gowns, Hazel was always attired in a stiff, black cotton uniform and an ugly black bonnet which covered her hair.

Twisting her thin lips in an ugly snarl, her stepmother said, You will go back to the manor right now and redo all the work you claim to have done. I will send one of the servants to watch you, one you aren’t friends with.

Knowing that arguing with the dowager baroness would be a waste of time and might even increase her workload, Hazel simply curtsied and walked back into the sprawling manor that had always been her home.

Once, the building had boasted of luxuries. But after her father’s death, the dowager baroness claimed that he had left them in debt and sold off a lot of things. But Hazel knew that her father had been prudent with his inheritance.

She had overhead her father talking to Lady Catherine one night, telling her that she had to cut back on her expenses because they were beginning to affect their finances. She had screamed like a banshee and cussed her father out.

Over the years, Lady Catherine had stripped the place almost bare to finance her expensive tastes. She and her daughters wore the best of dresses and accessories even though they could hardly afford them.

BY NIGHTFALL, HAZEL was so exhausted from all the chores that she had been made to do all day. She fell on her bed, ready to welcome sleep. But sleep was far from coming even from her hours of drudgery. She lay on the bare, scratchy pallet and thought of her life before Lady Catherine and her daughters came to Sallington. She knew next to nothing about them.

Hazel stared at her parents’ painting on the wall and tears slipped from the corners of her eyes. Again, she wished that they were alive. There was every chance that she would be married by now to the man of her dreams.

When it was time for her first season, her stepmother had made excuses about not having enough money for her to go to London to make her debut, so she missed it. But Mary and Anna hadn’t missed theirs.

Lady Catherine had continued giving her excuses whenever a new season began, and so Hazel gave up asking. But her stepsisters had never missed a season. However, they were so choosy, they never made a match.

I’m going to marry a handsome and wealthy duke and no one else. Mary had once bragged to her.

Hazel couldn’t really blame her. She, too, would like to marry one. But she didn’t think that would ever happen. She was a maid in her own home. No duke would want to have anything to do with her.

She closed her eyes and tried to force sleep to come. When it didn’t, she rose and took her brush to paint a portrait of her parents.

She went back to her pallet and stared at the painting until she fell asleep. She dreamt of a handsome prince who came to save her from her stepmother.

TWO

T his is not right! You’re the lady of the house, not that wicked witch. Cook grumbled bitterly as Hazel was hard at work on the floor.

Hazel sat on her haunches and provided the robust older woman with a smile.

Cheer up, Cook. I won’t be here forever.

The woman frowned. Where will you go? I reckon that she has a refused you having a season, you might end up marrying a farmer, a groomsman, or heaven forbid, remain a spinster till your dying days.

Hazel shuddered at the cook’s gloomy words, but she tried to hide it. Her smile wavered a little but she kept it up. Itwasn’t in her nature to burden anyone. Only Rose knew how much she wanted to change her circumstances.

Oh, Cook. she began with a shake of her head. The woman had always been known as Cook and nothing else. Hazel didn’t think anyone knew her real name. I’m not on the shelf yet. I’m only eight and ten. Yes, I know some of my mates are married, but it doesn’t mean I won’t be eventually.

The old woman shook her head as tears stung her eyes. I wish that your Ma and Pa were alive. You would have been living a better life, I say.

Hazel lowered her eyes at the tears that had gathered there. She didn’t like talking about her late parents with the servants because it never failed to make her sad, and she didn’t want to spend her days in despondency.

Thinking about her parents all the time wouldn’t alter her circumstances. She needed to believe that things would change for the better soon even though they were no longer in her life.

Sniffling and pushing back her tears, she lifted her head and gave the woman who had always treated her like a daughter a watery smile.

Never fear, Cook. I won’t be referred to as an old dried-up prune. I refuse. Very soon, a handsome and caring man will swoop in and save me. We’ll travel all over the world and live happily ever after. It might look like only a dream now, but I assure you that it will come to pass. And soon, I might add. I believe it strongly.

Where she had expected the ruddy-cheeked woman to smile and pray to God for it to be so, she looked as if she were about to have apoplexy. Her gaze was wielded to something behind her.

Cook, is all well with you?

Dreaming foolishly again, I see.

Hazel’s heart slammed painfully in her chest when she heard her stepmother’s voice.

Without saying a word, Hazel resumed scrubbing the kitchen floor, hoping Lady Sallington wouldn’t speak more about it. She was grossly mistaken.

I can see that you don’t have enough chores to keep you busy, hence your daydreaming.

Hazel feared saying anything that might increase the dowager baroness’s ire. Instead, she concentrated on her task, moving the brush around the kitchen floor. Cook, however, came to her rescue.

Begging your pardon, Lady Sallington, Hazel has been working since the break of the morn. She hasn’t had a moment’s rest. Kate is down with a cold, so Hazel has had to do her work as well.

Cook, refrain from speaking when you’re not spoken to. The iciness of her stepmother’s voice caused a shiver to run up Hazel’s body.

Hazel raised her head a little so that she could catch Cook’s eyes. She shook her head and pleaded with her eyes for her not to say anything more. The woman stared at her with sympathy.

Cook’s pay had once been docked when she stood up for her. She didn’t want anything bad to happen to her old friend. She would have to fight her battles herself.

Hazel, stand up this minute! Lady Sallington snapped, and Hazel quickly rose to do her bidding.

She turned around and wiped her wet hands against her brown apron.

Her stepmother’s eyes held disgust as if she were something dirty and ugly. Hazel felt like a rag before the elegantly dressed woman.

I just received some correspondence from Emily. She’s coming for a visit. Clean yourself before you go and prepare her favorite room.

Hazel struggled to hide the excitement flowing inside her. Lady Emily Lamb is the daughter of the Earl of Foxforth. The nineteen-year-old girl is Lady Sallington’s niece.

Hazel was happy to hear that Emily was coming for a visit. In the presence of her stepmother and stepsisters, Emily pretended to hate her so that she could always come there to visit. But in secret, she and Hazel were particularly good friends.

Hazel had an ally in Emily and they got on pretty well. Emily hated the way her aunt treated her stepdaughter, but she couldn’t do anything about it except hide her grievance.

Emily had told Hazel that the first time she mentioned it to her aunt that she didn’t like the way she had been turned into a servant in her own father’s house, her aunt had threatened that she wouldn’t be allowed to visit again.

Alas, I had to keep shut about the matter and pretend to be as vain as Mary and Anna. Emily had lamented. Fudge, I can’t stand those two. Have you seen a pair so empty-headed? All they think about is balls and soirées, seasons, and the latest fashion.

Hazel giggled for Emily had aptly described the two young women.

Very well, Lady Sallington. Hazel curtsied and was just about to pick up the wooden bucket when her stepmother stepped forward and kicked it.

Hazel raised appalled eyes at her when brown water spilled all over the clean floor she had spent time scrubbing.

Oh, that was mighty clumsy of me. Lady Sallington feigned ruefulness. Since you don’t have anything doing but dreaming of a non-existent man, you might as well start all over again in scrubbing the floor. I’ll come back and inspect it in thirty minutes.

She walked majestically away and halted when she reached the door. Oh, and it’s laundry day.

Hazel tried, she fought it, but she couldn’t hold them back. Tears poured down her face even when she tried to stop them from doing so.

She had so much work to do that day, scrubbing the floor again was just so unfair. She put her hands across her face and wept. Cook came up behind her, turned her around, and put her arms around her.

Hush now, child. Everything will be fine. Cook comforted Hazel, tightening her hold on her.

Hazel shook her head. For once, she felt hopeless. She felt as if she would never get away from her wicked stepmother and stepsisters.

Please, pull yourself together, Hazel. She’s trying to break your spirit. We can’t allow that. Everything will be fine.

As Hazel sobbed, despondency took over her. She didn’t think that anything would ever be fine.

THREE

Nodding at the footman , Stephen Worthington, the twelfth Duke of Caldwell, stepped down from his crested carriage. His blue eyes roamed his surroundings.

A nostalgic feeling hit him as he stared at the grey Elizabethan manor that was his aunt’s country home. He remembered with a small smile the times he had come visiting with his parents and younger sister.

The surrounding fields brought a smile to his face. He could just see himself as a little boy running with his huge Labrador, Beast. They had had good times in the fields chasing after rabbits.

His fond gaze returned to the house that stood tall like a towering giant. Surrounded by esplanades, the house was quite impressive with an orchard by its side and rioting flowers adding to its beauty. His favorite aunt had lived there for years with her husband before his demise.

Stephen looked down at his black coat, blue shirt, black waistcoat, and black trousers to make sure everything was in place. His aunt never liked him to look less than pristine.

Stephen walked forward with long strides on shiny shoes and climbed up the stone steps. His aunt’s butler, Farlow, opened the door.

Welcome, Your Grace. The dowager duchess is waiting for you in the saloon. the man replied and took his hat and gloves.

Thank you, Farlow. he replied, and strode through the opulent foyer in the direction of the saloon.

Farlow ran after him in an attempt to announce him after throwing open the doors but Stephen strode in, eager to see his beloved aunt.

His aunt laughed. Don’t bother, Farlow. You know that he never waits to be announced.

Stephen chuckled as he sauntered to where his aunt, Eleanor Blair, the Dowager Duchess of Blichester sat regally in a lovely blue dress that matched the color of her eyes.

Is it my eyes or do you get younger every time I see you, Aunt Ellie? he questioned and placed a kiss on her cheek.

Her greying blonde hair was tied in a severe knot at her nape. She was still an attractive woman even in her middle age.

She giggled like a shy schoolgirl. You should leave such talk for those poor debutantes, not an old woman like me.

His brows shot up. Old? You’re not old.

To his knowledge, his aunt was only fifty years old, hardly aged in his estimation.

She patted the seat beside her on the sofa for him to sit. He did so and stretched his long legs.

She turned to him with a twinkle in her eyes. I hope you still drink tea, Stephen.

He laughed. But of course, Aunt Elle.

She beamed with joy. That’s good. I was afraid that with all the time you spent in White’s and other exclusive men’s clubs that you might abhor tea.

He shook his head with a grin on his face. Not where you’re concerned.

Good. Cook heard you were coming and made those tiny biscuits of hers that you and Jane favored as children.

Hardly had she finished ringing the small bell on the stool beside the sofa when a short knock sounded on the door and Farlow thrust them open to admit a maid with a tray.

So, how have you been, my boy? The duchess asked.

I’ve been well, Aunt Ellie. How have you been? he replied, and took a cup of tea from the maid who shook so terribly, he feared that she would spill the hot liquid on him.

Comport yourself, Betsy. his aunt snapped when the maid gawked at her nephew after handing him the cup.

The flushed girl curtsied. I’m sorry, Your Grace.

The duchess frowned. Retire to the kitchen at once!

The maid curtsied again and hurried out of the room with the tray. Stephen’s eyes trailed after her.

It’s your devilishly handsome looks. his aunt mentioned with a pout when the maid had departed from the room.

Stephen chuckled and sipped from his tea. I didn’t do anything.

She waved her hand in the air. Bah! You didn’t have to. In the few months since I last saw you, I dare say that you’ve become even more handsome. Your father wasn’t even this handsome when he had women fawning over him. A great number of women have no doubt swooned where you’re concerned, haven’t they?

Stephen didn’t know what to make of the maid’s reaction to him and to his aunt’s somewhat accusing tone. It wasn’t his fault that he had taken after the men in his family with tall, dark, and handsome features.

I don’t know what to say to that, Aunt Ellie. he simply said and placed his cup on the stool beside him.

She peered at him with keen eyes and said, You don’t have to try to defend yourself. Just give me the name of the woman who has caught your fancy.

Stephen was glad that he wasn’t sipping his tea for he was sure that he would have spluttered the liquid all over the place.

Sweet Christ, what in the world was his aunt talking about? This was the first time she had made reference to any woman relating to him. She usually spoke in general.

Eyeing him coyly as he stared at her, she added, Rumor has it that you’ve taken a liking to Lady Wellington and come this season, you intend escorting her to balls and soirées.

Stephen couldn’t help the laughter that rumbled from his throat. The ton was at it again. They enjoyed driving groundless rumors.

He brought his amusement to an abrupt stop when he noticed his aunt glaring at him with seriousness. His face reddened, and he looked away to her French windows where he could see her garden of roses blossoming.

She still takes special care in tending her delicate flowers, he irrelevantly thought.

Do I look to be in a gaming mood, Stephen? she questioned tightly, and Stephen sighed.

He was all of twenty-seven years of age, yet his aunt still made him feel like a little boy with her no-nonsense tone.

He cleared his throat and said, Definitely not, Aunt Ellie. I have no romantic inclination whatsoever towards Lady Wellington. Believe me when I say if I do choose to take her for a wife—which is very unlikely—then you’ll be the first to know.

Pray tell, why is it on everyone’s lips that you’re interested in her hand in marriage?

Stephen sighed. If only his aunt knew the number of women who put themselves along his path just so they could get an introduction.

Don’t be shocked, Stephen. his closest friend, Edward, had told him recently. I, too, have been roped in the same nonsensical plans women devise to make our acquaintance these days. According to society, both of us are among the list of eligible bachelors this season now that we’re back to London fully.

Aunt Ellie, you have no idea what ladies these days do to get a man’s attention. he said with an exasperated tone.

His aunt giggled.

He calmly explained the cause of the rumor. Lady Wellington all but threw herself in front of my carriage while I was riding through Hyde Park the other day. I had to assist her and her chaperone home. It was a lovely day, so you can guess that the park was filled. I believe the rumors started from there.

His aunt laughed. Oh, my. I must say the young chits are getting adventurous these days. Why, in my days, all we did was either make eyes at the gentlemen we were interested in behind our fans or drop our fans or handkerchiefs in front of them and pretend we didn’t notice.

Stephen shook his head at the antic’s women partook in just to get the attention of men.