Duchess by Mistake Read online

  eBooks available from award-winning author Cheryl Bolen

  Regency Historical Romance:

  House of Haverstock Series

  Lady by Chance*

  Duchess by Mistake*

  The Brides of Bath Series

  The Bride Wore Blue*

  With His Ring*

  The Bride’s Secret (previously titled A Fallen Woman*

  To Take This Lord (previously titled An Improper Proposal)*

  Love In The Library*

  A Christmas in Bath*

  The Regent Mysteries Series

  With His Lady's Assistance*

  A Most Discreet Inquiry*

  The Theft Before Christmas*

  The Earl's Bargain

  My Lord Wicked

  His Lordship's Vow

  Lady Sophia's Rescue

  Christmas Brides (Three Regency Novellas)*

  Marriage of Inconvenience*

  A Duke Deceived*

  One Golden Ring*

  Romantic Suspense:

  Texas Heroines in Peril Series

  Protecting Britannia*

  Murder at Veranda House*

  A Cry In The Night

  Capitol Offense

  Falling For Frederick*

  World War II Romance:

  It Had to Be You (Previously titled Nisei)*

  American Historical Romance:

  A Summer To Remember (3 American Romances)

  *Also published in paperback

  Duchess by Mistake

  (House of Haverstock, Book 2)

  Cheryl Bolen

  Copyright © 2015 by Cheryl Bolen

  Duchess by Mistake is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the author.

  DEDICATION

  For my sister Suzi, a life-long lover of books, for all the help she's given me over the years

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Prologue

  Charles Upton, the Marquess of Haverstock, gazed across the breakfast table at Anna. Finally, the colour had returned to her cheeks after months of grieving for the babe they'd lost before it ever drew breath. Even though they had been married for nearly two years, he could never grow tired of gazing upon Anna's beauty.

  He'd been told she was the image of her mother, a spectacularly beautiful French noblewoman who'd captured men's hearts as easily as snapping twigs beneath her feet. How fortunate Haverstock was that he'd married his youthful Anna before she'd had the opportunity to ensnare men with a single glance. And how profoundly grateful he was that he was the first and only man to whom she'd ever given her love.

  One of the footmen silently appeared at his side and handed him a single letter. The handwriting looked vaguely familiar. By Jove, it looked very much like that of Aldridge! How could this be? The letter appeared to have been brought by a page and bore no marks of having come through the post. Had he returned from Italy, where he'd been for nearly five years?

  Brows lowered, Haverstock flipped it over. And he saw the seal had been stamped with a sword, the Duke of Aldridge's symbol. Haverstock smiled and tore open the letter which bore the duke's crest.

  My Dear Haverstock,

  I'm posting this from Dover and I expect it will reach London before I do. I look forward to seeing this noted beauty you've wed, and I confess to having the devil of a time picturing sensible Lydia uniting herself with Morgie. These eyes of mine yearn to behold my dearest friend after so long an absence.

  Aldridge

  "You won't believe who's back in town," Haverstock said to his wife.

  "Allow me to try." She put down her newspaper and eyed him with shimmering brown eyes. "A friend of yours?"

  He nodded.

  "One whom I have never met?"

  "Correct again."

  "Can it be the Duke of Aldridge has returned from Italy?"

  "You know me too well, my love." He took her hand and brushed a kiss on the back of it.

  "I wonder if he brings the Contessa with him?"

  "I seem to recall hearing that she's gone back to her husband."

  Anna's long lashes lowered. "Your ducal friend is very naughty indeed."

  "But I daresay you'll warm to him. Women always do. He's very charming--even if he is a profligate." His and Anna's marriage was built on impermeable bedrock. He never need fear she would look at another man.

  Not even Aldridge, whom women found irresistible.

  "I certainly hope he doesn't try to corrupt my upstanding husband."

  "We're very different. Especially now." Haverstock wanted but two things now: to be a family man and to do whatever he could to defeat the French.

  The footman returned to the chamber at the same time as Haverstock's last maiden sister took her place at their table. "Another letter for you, my lord."

  He and Anna greeted Cynthia, who had lately taken to using her given name of Elizabeth in honor of the recently deceased aunt for whom she'd been named. He cast a glance at the letter the footman placed in his hand and easily recognized Morgie's neat script. Until recently Morgie would have just stepped next door when he needed to communicate with Haverstock, but since Lydia's lying in, Morgie rather hovered at her side like a damned lap dog. Haverstock could have searched the three kingdoms and never have found a finer husband for his favorite sister than Morgie was to Lydia.

  Tearing open the letter, he read.

  It' all over town. Aldridge is back!!

  A mischievous look on his face, he met his wife's gaze. "You'd already heard about Aldridge, hadn't you?"

  She giggled as she nodded.

  "Knew what?" Elizabeth inquired, her teapot frozen in mid-pour.

  He looked at his sister. "The Duke of Aldridge has finally returned to England."

  Chapter 1

  How in the deuce had so many learned he was back in England, Philip Ponsby, the 5th Duke of Aldridge, wondered as he began to scan the pile of fresh correspondence upon his desk. He had told but one person, and he knew without a doubt Haverstock wasn't one to gossip. The servants! He'd sent ahead to have them ready the house. The chain of servants' communication was far superior to that of their masters, though their methods eluded him.

  Thankfully, Aldridge House did not smell musty even though he had been away for five years. That was one of the dubious advantages of being the eldest of eight. His siblings often used the London house, trotting up to go to the theatre or to meet eligible suitors at Almack's. It was the latter--and its endless procession of eligible misses wishing to unite themselves with the Duke of Aldridge--that had sent him packing for his long sojourn on the Continent.

  Yet he had to admit it felt devilishly good to be back in the country of his birth. Until he'd seen the white cliffs a
t Dover and the spire of Westminster Abbey, he had not realized how thoroughly he had missed England, dreary skies and all.

  Once that vile Napoleon had stuck his own usurping family on the throne of Naples, Aldridge had realized how grave was the threat to his own country from the Corsican monster. If Napoleon could plunder his conquering way across Europe, what was to stop him from overrunning the British Isles?

  Aldridge, for one. There was nothing he wouldn't do to keep that from happening. Before the week was out, he would present himself at the Foreign Office and offer his services to the Crown.

  In the stack of letters, an utterly feminine script caught his eye. He'd been away from England for so long now he could not remember any lady's handwriting. Curious, he opened the missive. It was just one page. One sentence, actually. From Belle. Annabelle Evans. Five years ago, she'd been the most beautiful courtesan in all of London. The last he'd heard, she was under the protection of the Duke of Benson.

  Aldridge,

  I shall call on you this afternoon on a matter of importance.

  His glance flicked to the case clock upon his chimneypiece. Two o'clock. He really wasn't up to seeing anyone after the long, uncomfortable journey, but he could not refuse to see Belle. She had long ago done him a good turn. No doubt, she wished now to be repaid. Had she lost her fine good looks? Was she destitute? Would she ask him for money? He shrugged. He was a very wealthy man. If the woman was in need, it would give him pleasure to assist her.

  He rang for a servant, and when a youthful footman who was long of leg and broad of shoulders appeared, the duke requested a bath to be prepared in his bedchamber. Damn but he was tired. And he felt as if he were coated in dust and dirt from Dover road.

  While water was being heated and carried to his tub, he would scan the remainder of the letters. After finishing with them--and delaying composing any responses--he trudged up the broad marble staircase to his private chambers, pleased to find his bath ready. With assistance from Lawford, he stripped off his clothing, then eased himself into the warm bath in front of the fireplace.

  "By the way, Lawford, instruct Barrow that if a lady calls, he should bring her here."

  "Very well, my lord." Having been with Aldridge since he'd left Oxford, Lawford was used to ladies of the demimonde showing up in his master's private chambers.

  * * *

  Lady Elizabeth Upton would say it was surely Divine intervention which had sent her to the modest lodgings on Miser Street early that day. But in reality it was the kindness of her brother James. An officer in the Peninsula and the brother closest to her in age and affection, James had written her a letter to ask that she see to the wellbeing of the young widow and child of a slain soldier who'd served under his command.

  James had written, "It was my understanding that the marriage between Harry Hudson—one of the best soldiers in His Majesty's Army—and his wife was exceedingly strong. He always stressed that if anything should happen to him, he wished for me to see that she and their little girl were looked after. Obviously, I cannot do that from Spain, but I know I can count on my favorite sister to undertake this commission in my stead. Obviously, if there is great need, I shall want to do whatever I can for the widow."

  There was nothing Elizabeth wouldn't do for her brother. Armed with the widow's address, Elizabeth availed herself of her eldest brother's coach to call upon Mrs. Hudson. When the crested Haverstock coach turned onto Miser Street near Covent Garden, Elizabeth's gaze was riveted to a most forlorn looking woman. She judged the woman to be near her own age of one and twenty. One hand clasped that of her little girl, whom Elizabeth judged to be three; the other clasped a bulging case, much like Elizabeth's valise, but much shabbier.

  Without even hunting for Number 12, Elizabeth felt certain she had found James' widow. She indicated for the coachman to stop and opened her coach window. "Mrs. Hudson?" she inquired.

  The woman halted and turned to eye Elizabeth, a brow raised in query. "Yes?"

  "Would you permit me to carry you to your destination? It seems my brother, Captain James Upton, served with your husband and had a very high opinion of him."

  Tears sprang to the fair woman's green eyes. "My Harry was a very fine man." As she swiped away a tear, Elizabeth noticed the young widow still wore a simple gold wedding band. She noticed, too, the woman's clean muslin dress was patched. Elizabeth's heart went out to the stricken woman. "Harry wrote to me of how much he admired Captain Upton." The woman was possessed of a genteel voice.

  By then the coachman had gotten off the box and opened the carriage door. Which was a good thing for Mrs. Hudson because rain was beginning to fall. "Please come sit with me," Elizabeth said.

  The woman and her daughter climbed in and sat opposite her. Elizabeth could tell from the little girl's curious gaze that this must be the first time she had ever been inside a carriage. "I am Lady Elizabeth. What is your name?" Elizabeth asked the angelic looking child with copper tresses.

  "Louisa."

  Elizabeth eyed the mother. "Your daughter is lovely."

  Mrs. Hudson's eyes still misted. "She takes after my husband."

  How sad that this woman had lost the husband she obviously adored. Elizabeth's gaze went to the woman's bag. "Are you going somewhere?"

  Mrs. Hudson burst into tears. "We've just been evicted from our lodgings. . ." Mrs. Hudson tried to calm herself enough to offer assurances to her worried daughter. "It's all right, pet. Mum's all right."

  It occurred to Elizabeth that she must have been evicted for failure to pay rents. Which meant that she likely had no place to go. "Where will you live?"

  The woman shook her head. "I don't know what we'll do." A fresh wave of tears overtook her.

  Elizabeth reached across the coach and patted her. It seemed like a miracle that she came to Miser Street at the exact time Mrs. Hudson was forced from it. "Please don't worry. That's why I've come today. Captain Upton wants to ensure that you and Louisa are looked after." Elizabeth had not the slightest notion what kind of sum would be needed to pay the woman's rent, but she thought the pin money in her reticule should go some distance. "How much money should you need in order to return to your lodgings?"

  "I am behind eighteen guineas—and that's not counting this month."

  "Allow me to go speak with your . . . proprietor." Elizabeth disembarked from the coach and scurried across the puddled pavement to Number 12.

  Though Mrs. Hudson and her little girl were spotless, that was not the case with the foul-smelling rooming house where they resided. On the first floor, a rain-splattered Elizabeth made the acquaintance of Mrs. Preble, a seemingly well-fed, middle-aged woman who wore a widow's cap. Elizabeth explained the plight of the unfortunate Mrs. Hudson.

  "It's coin in me pocket that puts food on the table, not a soft heart." There was a hardness in the woman's face.

  "If you allow Mrs. Hudson to finish out the month, I shall pay you twenty pounds, which includes what she owes—and happens to be every penny I can lay my hands on." By next week Elizabeth hoped to procure lodgings in a decent neighborhood for Mrs. Hudson. The area around Covent Garden was no place for a genteel woman and child.

  Mrs. Preble's eyes brightened. "Till the end of the month it will be then." Her gaze darted to the reticule Elizabeth was opening. She dumped the entire contents on the nearby desk top. Coins of every denomination and varying shades of metal made a small mountain. It looked like much more money than Elizabeth knew it was.

  "It should be twenty pounds," Elizabeth said.

  * * *

  As the coach rattled across the busy city, a sense of exhilaration courses through her. Helping Mrs. Hudson and her dear child had given Elizabeth more joy than anything ever had. Assisting at Anna's sewing school had made her feel useful, but not like today.

  For some time now she had grown tired of the Great Husband Hunt. She must resign herself to spinsterhood. She would, after all, end up being the maiden aunt like her namesake, Aunt Elizabeth. Only once h
ad Elizabeth ever fancied herself in love, and he had not returned her ardor enough to offer for her hand.

  No, make that twice, she thought. As a very young girl she had pined away over her brother's friend who just this day had returned to England after a five-year absence. From the age of twelve until the year of her presentation, she had dreamed of capturing the handsome duke's heart. Given that there was an eleven-year age gap between her and Aldridge, him having been interested in his friend's twelve-year-old sister was as impossible as a dry Scottish spring. Perhaps if he had been in England the year I was presented. . .

  It would do her no good to dwell on what was done and could not be undone. She no longer believed a husband and family of her own were necessary to her happiness. Her joy would come from helping war widows like Mrs. Hudson.

  Throughout the snarling carriage ride, she began to form a plan. She would go through all of James's letters to identify those who were killed, and with Haverstock's help she would go to the War Office and seek the direction of each of those widows.

  But first she to find a way to procure a large house in a respectable neighborhood. Her home for war widows and their children could brighten these family's lives, just as Anna's sewing school had done so much to better the lives of women and children in the East End.

  * * *

  "I have come to the conclusion I shall never wed." Elizabeth regarded her beautiful sister-in-law as the two sat in Lady Haverstock's scarlet study penning letters later that afternoon.

  Anna looked up from her gilt escritoire. "You can't mean that. You're but one and twenty years of age. There's much time for you to find someone you love as much as I love Charles."

  It stung rather that Anna had not assured her of Captain Smythe's love. It seemed Elizabeth had been the last to discover the dashing officer had no intentions of plighting his life to hers--after stealing her heart before he returned to the Peninsula. "The only man I ever fancied myself in love with did not return my affection, and I've not met another since who would tempt me to give up the life I've grown happy with."