The Duke's Ugly Duckling Read online

  The Duke’s Ugly Duckling

  Regency Romance

  Charity McColl

  PureRead.com

  Contents

  Dedication

  1. A Personal Word From Charity

  2. Rejected

  3. Papa’s Princess

  4. The Sighting

  5. Enter The Duke

  6. The Plan

  7. A Most Noble Man

  8. The Marriage

  9. Beginning Of Hope

  10. The Unravelling

  11. Safe Haven

  12. Want More Regency Fairytale Romance?

  Also by Charity McColl

  This book is dedicated to you - the reader!

  It is your encouragement and friendship, your emails, feedback and reviews, that make every one of these books so special!

  Want to be notified other great Regency and Highland romance by Charity McColl? Sign up for New Releases and be the first to hear about every book we publish, free books and more.

  Click Here To Sign Up Today

  1

  A Personal Word From Charity

  Some stories are timeless. I have often wondered why certain tales become so much a part of our lives - stories that are known across the world. Fairytales are an example of this phenomenon. This delightful regency take on the The Ugly Duckling story is the result my love for such timeless stories. Thank you so much for choosing to read one of my books. A writer is nothing without readers and my utmost hope is that you will enjoy reading this story just as much as I enjoyed writing it.”

  Sign Up For Charity McColl Updates Here

  2

  Rejected

  “Monica, please,” Stewart Knightley looked at his beautiful wife, preening herself in front of the mirror, quite unconcerned about anything else but herself. “Please Monica, she is our daughter.”

  Monica held up a hand, not bothering to turn to look at her husband. “Stop right there, Stewart. We agreed a long time ago that I am heartless and not fit to be a mother. Why do you bother yourself each year trying to get me to pretend that I am what I’m not?”

  “Deep down within you, there’s a wonderful and kind hearted woman and you know it. Please just allow her to come out this once, just this once.”

  “Why should I? I make no pretense about how I feel about that child,” Monica turned pale grey eyes to her husband. “I tell you that I feel nothing, never have and never will. Why you choose to live in a dream cloud is something I will never understand. And besides, I asked you many years ago to take a mistress and beget more children, but you chose to make yourself a saint. Deal with it, dear husband. Leave me be.”

  “Monica, it’s Florence’s fifteenth birthday. Just this once, please go into her room and tell her happy birthday.”

  “And once again I tell you, like I have told you every year, I will do no such thing. That part of my life is over and I’m not going to be pushed into doing something that I have no desire nor inclination to. Deal with it, Stewart. After all, she’s your beloved daughter,” Monica said this sarcastically.

  “She’s your daughter too, Monica. You gave birth to Florence but ever since she was born you turned your back on her. I am begging you, today only, and I will never ask you again. Just walk to our daughter’s bedroom and tell her happy birthday.”

  Monica sighed, shaking her head slowly. If she continued arguing with her husband they would get nowhere. From experience she knew that the best way to get Stewart off her back was to agree to do as he asked, and then do the exact opposite.

  “Alright then, call my lady-in-waiting to attend to me now, and I will see about going to that child’s bedroom to wish her happy birthday as you so desire.”

  “That child has a name, and it’s Florence. I named her after your mother, just as a reminder to you.”

  “Much good that it did,” Monica muttered under her breath, but gave a dazzling smile to her husband. “Give me time to get through my ablutions and I will see what to do.”

  Stewart nodded, leaving his wife’s bedroom with a sigh. He knew that he shouldn’t be forcing her to go to their daughter’s bedroom, but Florence was growing up very fast and every day she would ask her nanny, Rhoda Hanson, why her mother never came to see her. And every day Rhoda would tell her that her mother was very busy and would one day make time for her. In the past the explanations worked, because Rhoda would then call for the carriage and take Florence out for a ride, of course, away from prying eyes and since the carriage windows had curtains, nobody ever looked inside. Besides that, Rhoda would play a game of ‘let’s pretend to be royalty,’ which meant covering their faces with veils and the nanny would tell her charge that it was forbidden for normal human beings to look into the faces of their queens and princesses, and since they were royalty, nobody should look at them.

  Stewart knew that it wasn’t the right thing to do, especially now that Florence was growing into a young woman. But he had to protect his daughter, and from the moment she was born, he had sheltered her. It was by God’s grace that Rhoda Hanson had already been working in their home as a scullery maid at the time, and when Florence was born, she somehow became the child’s nurse and nanny, and now the two were inseparable.

  Time was flying by and the world around them was changing. Though he knew that he had to begin making his daughter face the world as it was, with all its challenges, pain and joy, he still wanted to hold on a little bit longer and keep his child in blissful ignorance. Rhoda had warned him that it wasn’t wise to do so, but for as long as he had breath, he would keep his little girl safe.

  Monica sighed when her husband had left her bedroom. She loved Stewart with all her heart. He was a handsome man even in his mid-forties and from the moment she had seen him when she was eighteen, she had lost her heart to him. He wasn’t that tall, but he was well built due to the hard work he did, for he was a ship builder at the time they met. With his dark hair and pale green eyes, he had stolen her heart, and also he had a lovely smile.

  The day he proposed to her had been the happiest day of her life, and when they got married, she was ready to give him as many children as he wanted, for he said he wanted at least five.

  Then she conceived, and their joy knew no bounds. They planned for the future of their child, and she was so sure that she would have a boy while Stewart said it was a girl. They had many moments of laughter and joy as they waited with anticipation for the child.

  And the day finally came, the baby was about to come into the world and make their lives even more joyous. Stewart, who by this time had started his own small boat building business, could afford to take a day off of his busy schedule from his workshop at the docks in Dover to be with his wife.

  Monica shuddered as she remembered the day that changed their lives forever. Her labour was long but she had a good midwife, a middle aged woman who attended to most of the women around Maidstone Village where they lived.

  The moment the baby was born, Adelaide Sunder gave a horrified cry, crossed herself. “May the Lord save us from all evil,” she shuddered, dropped the baby onto a cot and fled the room. No amount of pleading or coercion would induce her to return to the room. She even asked for her midwife’s fees to be sent to her home for she couldn’t bear to be in that home any longer. Monica was too weak to ask what was going on but her husband, who was waiting anxiously, rushed into the room. He was the one who covered the child and brought her to Monica.

  “Isn’t she the most beautiful baby you’ve ever seen?” He placed the child next to Monica, smiling with so much joy and pride on his face.

  When Monica turned and saw the child’s face, she screamed and pushed her away, almost dropping her from her bed.

  “Get t
hat ugly thing away from me,” she screamed. “That hideous creature cannot be my baby. What have you done with my baby? Give me my baby, where is the wicked witch who calls herself a midwife?”

  Monica couldn’t be consoled, and she wouldn’t let the child anywhere near her. She had never seen such an ugly looking baby and even now, fifteen years later, she still shuddered whenever she thought about the face of the child she had given birth to. As far as she knew, there was no history of harelip in her husband’s nor her family, so this child was a curse, and she couldn’t bear to be anywhere near it.

  “He can’t make me look at that child,” she murmured, pursing her lips as her maid arranged her hair neatly on her head. “Nothing can make me go and behold the face of that child,” she shuddered visibly.

  “My lady, are you cold? Should I put a shawl over your shoulders as I arrange your hair?” Her maid asked.

  “It will pass,” Monica said, “Something just crossed my mind and made me uncomfortable, that’s all. If you’re all done, go to the stables and tell one of the stable hands to prepare the carriage for me. I’m going out for the day.”

  “Yes, my lady,” the servant curtsied and left the room.

  Monica sprang into action, knowing that if she delayed too much, her husband would come and escort her to Florence’s bedroom and that was the last thing that she wanted to do. She had lived fifteen years without seeing that child and she wasn’t about to begin today, just because it was her birthday. She had to get away from this house, and stay absent until quite late, when she knew the child would be asleep, and only then would she return.

  3

  Papa’s Princess

  Stewart stood at Florence’s bedroom window that overlooked the back courtyard and sighed. He had heard the carriage leaving a few minutes ago and knew that once again, his wife was running away from meeting their daughter.

  Florence was seated at her new table, happily unwrapping the gift that Rhoda had given her. It was a beautiful hair bow made from soft wood and decorated with dried flowers. “It is so beautiful,” Florence slid it to hold back her thick dark hair. “I wish I could see what it looks like, Miss Rhoda, why don’t we have mirrors in the house, then I could look at myself and see how pretty this bow looks on my head.”

  “My love, you remember what I told you about mirrors?”

  “Tell me the story again,” Florence rubbed her hands together. She loved a good story. Rhoda cast a quick glance at Stewart, who nodded. Anything to keep her from thinking about mirrors.

  “When your papa was little, one of the maids in the house broke a mirror and it was said the family would have bad luck for seven years. Your grandma said that no mirrors should ever be brought into the house because she didn’t want bad luck following anyone ever again. That’s the reason we don’t have mirrors in the house.”

  “Is that true, Papa?”

  “Yes, my child,” Stewart almost choked on the words, hating that he had to lie to his own daughter and yet he always told Rhoda to teach Florence to be truthful at all times. But he had to protect her. Even though she had been born with a harelip that extended all the way from her lip to one side of her nose, he had tried to find as many surgeons as he could, to repair the birth defect. Now he wished he had let well enough alone, because they had done a terrible job and, though they had managed to seal the opening, the ugly scars on the upper lip made his daughter look even more hideous. But at least she didn’t speak with a lisp as before, and she could now eat without too much trouble.

  He always told her just how beautiful she was, but lived in dread of the day when she would finally take a look at herself in the mirror and see her reflection, what she really looked like.

  That he loved Florence, there was no doubt. Immediately after her birth and rejection by her mother, he had asked Rhoda, who was then a scullery maid and one of three maids in the house, to attend to the child. He had begged her never to let the child be seen by anyone else because he didn’t want people looking at her and considering her a freak. And Rhoda had done as bid, and with time, as his businesses grew and prospered, he had finally bought this lovely manor in the countryside, a two-story building, and had converted the whole of the top floor into a large bedroom for Florence and Rhoda, a school room and a play room. He also had a contractor come in and make a separate staircase that led from Florence’s rooms down to the courtyard, but the door was always locked tight and only he and Rhoda had the keys.

  The room also had a large balcony that was well covered to prevent anyone seeing whoever was on it, while allowing enough sunshine during spring and summer. In winter and autumn, the doors leading to the balcony were always tightly shut to keep the cold out, and instead, a fire would be lit to warm the rooms.

  Stewart wondered how long he was going to keep his daughter hidden, and recalled a conversation he had had with Rhoda just the previous day.

  “Mr. Knightley, you need to think about introducing Flo to the world. God forbid that something should happen to you, but have you thought about how hard it would be for her to cope with the outside world if you’re not here to protect her?”

  “I think about it all the time, Rhoda, but I don’t know what to do. I feel as though I have left it too late. I had hoped that by now Monica would begin to accept our daughter and make her feel normal, but that isn’t going to happen.”

  “We just have to find a way, because Flo is growing up and will soon demand to leave these rooms and walk around and be with people. I have tried my best to keep her as secluded as I can, but your daughter has a strength in her that will eventually overpower what I am trying to do. It would be better for her to get to know what she looks like and begin dealing with it sooner rather than later.”

  “You speak a lot of sense, Rhoda. But I am afraid of my little girl being hurt by those who don’t understand just how special she is.”

  “Flo may yet surprise us all. She is her father’s daughter and your strength runs in her blood. You might be surprised that she will soon accept herself, because I have done all I can to make her know that she is beautiful within and without.”

  “And I am very grateful for that. You have taught her Christian virtues and instilled Godly character in my child. I am especially grateful that you have taught her to care for the weak, wounded and less fortunate. Bringing all those wounded animals to the schoolroom and teaching her how to take care of them until they are healed, or mourn over the ones that don’t make it, has made my child compassionate. But as a father, I fear that when the time comes for her to learn about herself, it will crush her.”

  “The longer you wait, the worse it will be,” Rhoda had sighed, her blue eyes troubled. “It is getting harder for me to contain her in these rooms, when she always wants to go and see her mother and ask her why she doesn’t come to see her anymore. You see, I told her that her mother used to come and see her when she was little but is now very busy. Her response, ‘Papa is very busy but he comes to see me morning and evening, every day and spends a lot of time with me.’” Rhoda shook her head. “It is getting harder and harder.”

  “Give me a few more days, and I promise we will think of a way of introducing Florence to the world without her getting hurt.”

  Florence knew that her father and nanny talked a lot about her, and she often wondered why they seemed to have so many secrets between them. Her eighteenth birthday was coming up and her father had asked her what present she would like to have. She loved her father and never wanted to see him unhappy, so she had told him that she wanted a pony for her birthday.

  In actual fact, she wanted to see her mother and ask her why she never came to see her. Miss Rhoda had told her that her mother used to come when she was young, but she sometimes doubted it. What had made her stop coming to see her at all?

  Something landed on her upper lip and she rubbed it thoughtfully. Sometimes it felt quite itchy and she would scratch until it bled, then nanny would get all upset and wash the area with a little of the w
hiskey that her papa kept for his guests, since he didn’t drink, then she’d gently spread honey over the area and cover it. Within a few days the lip would be healed, but then it would begin feeling itchy again and the process would be repeated all over again.

  She often wished she could see what it was that caused her upper lip to itch so much, but there weren’t any mirrors in the house and she didn’t want to press her papa to get her one, because she didn’t want bad luck to befall anyone in the house.

  Her father and Miss Rhoda were still talking so she stood up and walked to the window and looked down. There was a beautiful lady getting into the carriage and Florence waved, hoping she would look up and see her, but she didn’t and the carriage was soon on its way.

  She looked beyond the courtyard and saw the meadow in the distance. Perhaps her father would get her a pony and then she could go riding out in the meadow, feeling the wind in her hair. Sometimes she saw the beautiful lady riding with some people in the distance and longed to be out there in the sunshine, but Rhoda wouldn’t let her, telling her that the time would come when she would be able to do that, but not just yet.

  One day she had asked Rhoda who the beautiful woman was, and had been told that she was a special visitor who lived with them. Florence had often wondered and dreamed that the beautiful woman was her mother, the mother who never came to visit her. She would sometimes dream that the woman had come and taken her out to the meadow with her, and they would ride together, or else get into the carriage and drive away to see the world.

  4

  The Sighting