The Reluctant Duchess
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Authors: Catherine Winchester
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 V
ersion
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
A
s 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 frie
nd 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, someti
mes 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 h
er? 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 ma
ny 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.”
“M
y 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.