Loving an Impossible Duke (Preview)

Prologue

June 1812

Colonel David Cecil, future Duke of Bedford, sat upon his bed as the morning sun touched the top of his canvas tent. He sat up slowly, wincing as he stretched his lower back. Pain licked up and down his muscles, stiff from sleeping on the uncomfortable accommodation. War was never pretty and hardly ever comfortable. At least his bed and private tent were more comfortable than the lowly foot soldiers had to endure. This war with Napoleon could not end soon enough.

He got out of bed and dressed in his uniform. Soon afterwards, his valet came into the tent carrying a tea tray. “Good morning, sir. I trust you slept well?” 

His valet was a jovial man, despite them being trapped in a war zone. David at once revered him and was annoyed by his spirit–especially in the early morning. One would have thought he would be used to the early mornings by now. After nearly thirteen years in His Majesty’s service, rising before dawn came with the territory. However, lately, David found himself unable to sleep, even with the unbearable exhaustion weighing down on him. His father had been unwell the last few months and growing worse every day by the letters he received from home. 

“I did not, unfortunately.” David sat at a little round table and watched his valet closely while pouring his tea. Then he spotted a letter on the tea tray, his stepmother’s handwriting standing out as if they were written in scarlet. “What is this, Scott?” 

His valet turned, handing him his cup of steaming hot tea. “It arrived about a half-hour ago, sir. I thought it looked important.” 

“Yes, indeed.” He raised a brow, opening the seal. Sometimes he wondered if his valet was one of those types of servants that held letters up to the light to try and snoop.

Scott then busied himself, tidying up the tent. David took a steadying breath and unfolded the missive, reading his stepmother’s flowery hand with a mixture of trepidation and dread. 

My dearest son, 

It is with great sadness that I write to you. Your father has died, his heart too weak to stand up under the strain any longer. He passed away peacefully in his sleep sometime during the night. He was stubborn to the last, ordering me to go and leave him in peace. He did not want me constantly sitting by, waiting for him to expire. Of course, you know that your father was never one to give in to sentimentality. 

Even so, he expressed his desires to see you before he went on into eternity. However, he knew that it would be unlikely since you were bravely fighting against that fiend, Napoleon. I have added in a letter that he dictated to me, explaining his last wishes and some instructions regarding the running of the estate. 

Please come home as quickly as possible, my dear boy. His Majesty will have to release you from your term of service, as we knew this day would eventually come. We all grieve along with you and pray for a safe journey home to us. 

Godspeed, 

Your loving stepmother, Lady Catherine Cecil

David set the one-page missive aside and scanned the letter dictated by his father. His heart clenched. It was all instructions and last commands for how he wanted the estate to be run. No tender last words or feelings were expressed, so he set it aside. Even to the end, his father had been a cold, hard nobleman. 

Sighing, he stood and walked over to the front tent flap. He moved it out of the way, leaning against the tent poles. 

“Is everything well, sir?” Scott asked softly. 

David raised his brows, sighing heavily. “My father has passed away, Scott. I shall have to go and speak with the general and request an immediate resignation.” 

“Well, I am sorry to hear that. My condolences, sir.” Scott furrowed his brow, his eyes filling with sadness. “Your father was always a generous master.” 

“Yes, he was,” David said, his chest constricting. He had been generous with the staff and his friends. It was only his eldest son who never seemed to do anything right. David never seemed to be enough or do enough to make his father proud. He often wondered what he had done to make his father dislike him so much. Growing up, his father had dealt with him with an iron hand, even when he was a small child. Never was he allowed to cry, even when he broke his arm falling out of a tree. His father had yelled at him to “stop blubbering like a baby and man up.” 

David had learned to keep his emotions close. “Never let them see you bleed. The dukedom depends on your ability to be strong and maintain an impeccable reputation.” His father’s words echoed in his ears, pounding into him from the time he could stand in front of his father’s great mahogany desk in his study. David looked back at the table where his father’s letter lay, unread–mocking. He was sure that these exact instructions were within. 

“Is there anything else I can do for you, sir?” Scott asked, standing to attention at his side. David jumped slightly as his thoughts were interrupted. 

He shook his head. “No, thank you, Scott.” His valet bowed and started out of the tent. However, David called out to him, halting him in his tracks. “Scott, there is something you can do. Fetch Captain Stiles for me right away.” 

Scott nodded and bowed again. “Of course, sir.” He turned on his heels and hurried on his way. David returned to the tent, picking up the letters and folding them. He placed the little packet in his jacket pocket and sat at the dining table. He sipped his tea absent-mindedly, listening to the fires crackling as the men woke up and started their ministrations. Soft murmurings could be heard as the men awoke, greeting each other with sleepy ‘good mornings’ and the like. Ham frying over the open fires and beans cooking in small pots wafted to him, making his stomach gurgle with hunger. However, he was unsure if he could stomach anything this morning. Not with the news of his father’s demise. 

He had known this day was coming for quite some time. Indeed, he had almost expected it would come much sooner than it had. With his father in his late seventies and with a failing heart, he was almost surprised he had made it this long in his military service. 

His heart raced inside his chest at the thought of leaving his brothers in arms. He had thrived in military life, rising to the rank of colonel with the help of his father purchasing commissions for him. But he had also built a rapport with his men, and their respect was something he deeply cherished and guarded. He knew that when they went into battle, they were genuinely behind him. Unlike some of their superiors, he never asked them to do something he would not. 

“Colonel? You sent for me?” 

Captain Gregory Stiles’ voice drifted in from outside his tent, and he stood to greet his friend. Opening the tent flap, he motioned for Gregory to join him. He and Gregory had been friends for years since he had first enlisted in the army. He was his most trusted confidant and sounding board.

“Sir!” Gregory saluted, looking straight ahead. 

“At ease, Captain. I have not summoned you here to give orders.” 

Gregory relaxed, observing him with curiosity. “What is it then? Scott said that it was urgent.” 

“It is, but it is a personal matter. My father has died.” David motioned for him to sit at the table with him. “Gregory, I am leaving the army. For good.” 

Gregory sat back in his chair, raising his brows in shock. “Dead? My goodness, I am sorry, old chap.” Gregory took on the familiar air they shared while on leave or away from camp. “Is there anything I can do?” 

“Not as of yet, I am afraid. I must go and speak with General Calloway in a few minutes, but I wanted you to know the situation. I must confess that my mind is still reeling a bit.” 

Gregory let out a long, whistling breath. “Well, it is not a light thing when one loses a father. My condolences, David. I know it has been on the horizon for a while, but that does not make it any easier.” 

“I do not know what I will do without you, Greg. You are about the only friend I have.” 

“Well, we will not be apart for too long. With any luck, I will be back in England shortly after you.” 

“Have they given you any news about your discharge?” David asked. 

“Not yet, but Brigadier Henderson says it could be any day. I tire of sitting about that medical tent, wasting the days away. I am useless with this injury.” Gregory held up his left hand, bandaged where he had lost his index finger and thumb to a cannonball. “I told Brigadier Henderson that I was well enough to fight. I can ride without holding the reins and fire with my right hand, but he would not listen.” 

David rolled his eyes. His friend would charge into a fight with two hands tied behind his back if they would allow it. He was a brave soul, unafraid of the battlefield. He was also blunt and unforgiving in his opinions. However, David supposed that a lifetime of fighting would do that to any man. Gregory was also loyal to a fault and would lay down his life for his fellow soldiers. David could not have asked for a better friend in all the world. 

“You must come straight to Bedford House when you arrive in England,” David offered. Gregory had no family left and usually occupied a little house on the outskirts of London, even though he detested the city. 

Gregory screwed up his nose at this, confusion filling his face. “Will you not be at the manor? I would have thought you would move in there now that you are the duke.” 

David sighed. “I will, eventually. However, I will need to see that Mother is settled in the dower house. And until then, I would rather not stay in that cavernous mansion all by myself.” David liked the quaint feel of Bedford House much better. And as it was only a half-mile from the main estate, he thought staying at the smaller house would help him adjust to civilian life a little better. 

“How is the duchess? Did she say how she is coping?” 

David leaned to the side, took out the letter, and handed it to Gregory. “I could not decipher from her letter, but given her strained relationship with my father, I doubt much has changed, save the colour of her wardrobe.” 

It was strange, for David felt more of a familial connection with his stepmother than any of his other family members. It was true that she could be off-putting to strangers with her fierce stares and blunt attitude. However, she had a soft spot for him, and he knew it. They had grown close over the years, a fact that David’s father resented, he was sure. 

Gregory scanned the letter from his stepmother and then looked up at him with a wary glint in his eye. “And your brother? Does he send word? Or is he off gallivanting in the casinos and clubs of London?” 

“You know Henry. I have not had a letter from him in over a decade. I doubt we will ever see him unless he requires money,” David replied. David had little in common with his young stepbrother. With almost ten years between them, they had never shared anything resembling closeness. As a sickly child, Henry had received special treatment from their father and was often excluded from the outdoor rigours and exercises his father had insisted David keep. It had been a source of jealousy in his growing-up years. However, David had made his peace with it now. Henry was the second son and would therefore have nothing but a small stipend from his father, which, even so, was generous. Henry rarely showed his face around the manor now that he was a grown man of twenty, and he doubted their father’s death would change things much. 

“Well, I can only hope he keeps his distance.” 

David smiled sadly. It was no secret that Gregory and Henry disliked each other. On the few occasions they had met, David was afraid they would have come to blows if David had not stepped in. 

“It is no matter. Henry has made it very clear that he does not want anything to do with the family. And that is just as well with me.” 

David turned as someone cleared their throat outside his tent. “Yes? What is it?” 

Scott poked his head into the tent and nodded to them both. “Begging your pardon, Your Grace, but Brigadier Albers can see you now. His valet sent word.” 

David stood, and Gregory followed. He stepped forward and extended his good hand. “I am sorry for your loss, David. Do let me know if there is anything I can do before you leave.” 

“Thank you,” David replied. “You are a good friend, Gregory.” David nodded once and then turned on his heels, exiting the tent. He made his way to his superior’s tent, weaving through the maze of other canvas tents. His heart drummed in his chest as he passed by the men sitting outside the tents’ doors, cooking breakfast and drinking their morning tea. His chest constricted as he looked into their faces, calling good morning to several of them. It would be torture to leave them, but leave he must. From that moment on, he knew his life would never be the same. 

 

Chapter One

May 1813

Lady Hannah Severington leaned closer to the mirror, looking from side to side to ensure her hair was perfect. Her blonde tresses were pulled back in an elegant style, with short, wispy curls framing her face. 

She sat back in her chair before the vanity as her maid finished arranging one last braid into the elaborate coif. Hannah had risen before dawn to ready herself for her wedding. Now, almost three hours later, her ablutions were nearly complete. Soon, she would be on her way to the small village church and promise her life to a man she had never met. 

“You look so beautiful, Hannah. I think Fate awarded you all the beauty,” her sister said, a slight tease in her whining tone. 

Hannah rolled her eyes, pinning her younger sister with a hard stare. “Louise, you know that is not true.” 

“Oh, I do not mean that I am jealous in any way. Fate may have given you all the beauty, but he gave me all the brains.” Louise winked at her through the mirror, but her mother quickly nudged her aside. 

“Really, you two. To hear you talk, you would think you hated each other.” 

“Nonsense, Mama.” Hannah straightened in her seat and waved her maid away. “Leave it be. I tire of sitting in that chair.” 

“Are you nervous?” Louise asked, following her over to the full-length mirror. Hannah smoothed her white silk gown, furrowing her brow. She turned around to regard her sister face to face. 

“Why should I be nervous?” 

Louise’s eyes widened with surprise. “You are marrying a man you have never once laid eyes on! I would be on the edge of hysterics if I were in your shoes.” 

Hannah only laughed. It was true that she was a little nervous about her upcoming nuptials, but she saw no reason to share that with her little sister. Her father had arranged a brilliant match for her. As the wife of a duke, their station in society would be raised considerably, thus paving the way for Louise. Unfortunately, her father had only two daughters and had worked their entire lives to provide them with the best education for which a young woman of her station could have hoped. When the chance for this match had come to Hannah’s attention, she had taken it without a second thought. She would live a life of luxury, never in want of anything.

“Well, I am not in hysterics. Quite the contrary.” Hannah turned around as her maid brought her a pair of glistening diamond earrings. Her mother looked on approvingly. 

“I knew you would make us all proud one day. The best I dared hope for was a viscount or an earl. I hope you have thanked your father for all the strings he had to pull to negotiate this match for you.” 

Hannah gave a short laugh. If she had a pound for every time she had heard her mother say that, she would be as wealthy as the duke she was about to marry over the last few months. “I have, Mama. Do not worry on that account.” 

“It seems so unromantic, accepting the first offer of marriage given you without having met before. I think it very odd,” Louise piped up. 

“It is not so odd. Did not Marie Antionette travel hundreds of miles to marry Louis XVI? And even then, they were married by proxy. I think my circumstance is a little better than hers.” 

“Yes, but they did eventually meet in person, and I think that comparing yourself to the ill-fated Queen of France is bad form on your wedding day.”

Hannah laughed, for her little sister could be very unfeeling at times. “I think this whole conversation is bad form.” 

Louise stepped closer, glancing over her shoulder at their mother before continuing, “What about after the wedding? I mean, you know, tonight–?” 

Thankfully, their mother overheard Louise’s question and stepped in before she elaborated any further. “Louise, you are making a nuisance of yourself. Please go along and see that your father is ready.” 

“Aww, Mama. I want to stay. Please, I promise to be quiet.” 

However, her mother did not listen to Louise’s pleas and soon shooed her out of the room. Hannah was glad of the short respite. She had not been all that nervous before, but now her thoughts were a jumble in her brain, swirling like a whirling dervish. Her mother closed the door and came back to stand behind her. She smiled at her in the mirror and then gave a soft sigh. 

“You know, if there is anything you want to ask me about tonight–” her mother started and then halted. Hannah gulped. That was the last subject she wanted her mother to expound upon at that particular moment. 

“There is nothing, Mama. I will be alright. I promise,” Hannah said, putting on a brave face. Her stomach lurched with anxiety, but she quickly pushed the feelings down. 

Her mother stopped, nodding slowly. “Of course. Of course!” she replied with a tight smile. “Well, I suppose we should be off. We would not want to keep your future husband waiting.” 

“No, we do not,” Hannah agreed. She picked up the hem of her dress and began to leave the room. When she came to the doorway, she stopped, looking around her childhood bedroom one last time.  The four-poster bed with its hanging damask curtains would forever be a cherished place in her heart, where she had shared many secrets with her sister and ghost stories whispered under the covers. She had readied herself for her first ball in this room, dreamed of what she would do in her future. And it was all coming to fruition now. 

After this morning’s ceremony, her life would never be the same. She took a deep breath and then turned away, walking down the hallway with determination in her step. After all, she was about to marry one of the most powerful men in England. 

They made their way down to the foyer, the light illuminating the exquisite paintings and tapestries on the walls. The plush white carpets dampened their footsteps, but her long flowing white gown rustled behind her. Time seemed to stand still as she took it all in. She left this home a girl, and the next time she entered, she would be a woman. 

Her mother linked arms with her as they walked down the grand staircase to the foyer, where her father and sister waited. Her father gave her a brilliant smile as she walked down the steps of the grand staircase, his eyes brimming with tears. He reached up for her hand as she came to the last few steps, and she took it gladly. “You look radiant, my dear. Almost as beautiful as your mother on our wedding day.” 

Her mother blushed, waving him off. “None of your theatrics this morning, Frances,” her mother scolded. “We must be away.” Her mother hurried down the last few steps and herded Louise out the door. Hannah turned to her father, his gaze softening.

“Are you ready for this?” he asked, lowering his voice. 

“Of course, Papa. Mama bid me thank you one more time for setting up this match. I am forever in your debt,” she teased. 

He chuckled softly. “It is the least I could do for a treasured daughter. I cannot say it will be easy. The duke has a lot of pressure on him, especially after the example his father set. He will need you to be strong.” 

“Mother has taught me how to run a household well. And I know I can always come to you and Mama for help, should I need advice.” Hannah came down the last step and linked arms with her father. “Now, get me to the church before I am late for my own wedding.” 

Her father laughed, and they headed out of the house together. He helped her into the open-air carriage and then climbed into the other carriage where her mother and sister were already waiting. As tradition dictated, she would ride to the church alone and be joined by her new husband after the ceremony. 

She nodded to the driver, taking a deep breath, and they started down the drive and away from the house. Now that she was alone with her thoughts, she was beginning to grow more and more nervous. What would her husband be like? Her father had assured her he was young and handsome, a man of character with a shining military career. He had come home from the war with Napoleon a year before and had been settling back into civilian life. 

Hannah had found little else besides the few details about his past accomplishments, name, and title. Perhaps it was inconsiderate, but she had not been very concerned with what kind of man he was. As long as she did not have to marry someone too much older than herself, she had not cared who her father had arranged for her to marry. 

The only thing she would miss about her old life was her closeness with her sister. What would she do all alone in the huge mansion? Of course, she would have the house to run. But how would she while away her afternoons while her husband ran the estate? It would most certainly be an adjustment. But she knew she was equal to the task. 

She pushed thoughts of the future away and tried to enjoy the present. The sun was shining, and birds sang as they flitted in the trees lining the road. The trees were filled with fragrant blossoms, tiny petals fluttering to the ground with the slightest breeze, surrounding her in a magical flurry. She looked up at the sky, laughing and holding her hands up, palms out. On this the last day of her childhood, she wanted nothing more than to soak in all the happiness and joy she could. 

They arrived at the church a few minutes later, and her father opened the carriage door for her. Everyone was already waiting inside. Once she had stepped down from the carriage, she smoothed her dress and retrieved her bouquet of fresh roses from the carriage seat. She smiled at her father, and they walked up the stone path towards the church’s front door. 

As they neared, she could hear people chattering inside. Her heart skipped a beat at the thought of what she was about to do. Louise’s words flew back in her face. She was about to tie herself to a man she had never met–forever. There was no turning back now. 

“Shall we?” her father asked, seeing how she stalled at the front doors. She glanced over at him, putting on a brave smile.

“Yes, let us go.” Hannah took her father’s arm, and they walked into the back of the church together. The abbey was cool and dim, and she was grateful for the respite from the warm sunshine. She shivered slightly and stepped up to the sanctuary doorway. There, at the altar, was a tall, dark-haired man—her future husband. 

She tried to still the wild beating of her heart as the organ music began and the guests stood preparing for her to walk down the aisle. 

“You will do just fine, dearest. You may be changing your name today, but never forget the Severington fortitude that has guided your ancestors since the time of William the Conqueror,” her father whispered as they started down the aisle. “Courage runs through your veins, and there is nothing you cannot do.” 

“Thank you, Papa,” Hannah whispered back. She straightened, walking with her head held high. In a few short moments, she would be the Duchess of Bedford.

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“Loving an Impossible Duke” is an Amazon Best-Selling novel, check it out here!

Lady Hannah Severington is on the verge of wedded bliss, and her life seems to be all planned out. She is due to marry the dreamy Duke of Bedford and live every lady’s fantasy. While everything is ready for the wedding, Hannah chooses to dismiss all of the doubts about marrying a man she doesn’t love. However, deep down, she wonders if she has made the right choice in allowing an arranged marriage.

Will this convenient match ruin all her chances at real love?

David Cecil, Duke of Bedford, is a toughened military man, used to the battlefield’s harsh ways. He therefore never cared for romance, until the moment his father dies and he is persuaded by his stepmother to find a bride to secure his place in society. There are only two problems: he has never been in love and has no idea how to talk to women. It certainly does not help that he meets his new and admittedly enchanting wife at the altar.

Will his special bride write him off before they even have a chance to get to know each other?

Hannah and David soon find that marriage is much more complex than they could have imagined. When another man enters the scene and threatens to ruin their marriage, they both realise just how much they appreciate each other’s affection and want to fight for it. Will a sinister foe be enough to end their finally desirable union before it fully blossoms? Or will they see that the only way to end the hardships is to believe in each other and their love?

“Loving an Impossible Duke” is a historical romance novel of approximately 80,000 words. No cheating, no cliffhangers, and a guaranteed happily ever after.

Get your copy from Amazon!