The Duke's Ugly Duckling: Regency Romance (Regency Fairytale Romance Book 2) Read online

  Albert was so shocked at his wife’s words that he sat staring at her, quite speechless. He thought he was dreaming but she was talking and telling him how she understood the needs of men, but since she wasn’t the kind of wife he really wanted, he wasn’t obligated to her except to shield her from shame and reproach.

  For the next three days Albert didn’t leave his room and he kept expecting Florence to come and knock at the door. He hadn’t been able to sleep well because of what she had proposed. He was a Christian and a devoted man. His mother had taught him to honour marriage with every fibre of his being, yet here was his wife allowing him to take a mistress outside their home.

  When he finally came out of his room, he was surprised to see the changes in the dower house. Gone were the ugly sheets that had covered the old seats in the house, and the drapes that had gathered dust for many months were clean. The whole house smelled of fresh flowers and he could hear Florence singing outside.

  Stewart had promised to send contractors in a week’s time, to give them time to adjust to each other. He walked through the house and was surprised to find it looking really clean. Florence had been busy in the three days that he hadn’t left his room, not even for meals. His stomach growled and he found his feet leading him to the kitchen, where there was a large pot boiling merrily on the fire in the grate. And the delicious smell had his mouth watering.

  “There you are,” Florence came into the house through the kitchen door. “You must really be hungry by now.”

  “That I am,” he sat at the kitchen table. “Something sure smells nice.”

  “Just some chicken stew. After a long fast, the first thing one ought to take is light soup, and then proceed from there.” She served him some soup in a bowl and as he ate, he couldn’t help but lick his lips. It was delicious, as were the mashed potatoes and tender peas she served him a little bit later. When he was done, he rubbed his stomach.

  “It’s been a long while since I ate so well, and such a tasty meal. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, my lord.”

  “I’m your husband so you can call me Albert. Calling me ‘my lord’ reminds me of when my father was alive and people addressed him like that. And if you don’t mind, I’ll just call you Florence, or Flo as Miss Rhoda calls you.”

  “I’d like that.”

  9

  Beginning Of Hope

  Their lives soon settled into routine. Just as he had promised, after seven days four contractors came to the estate and were involved in long discussions with Albert. Florence didn’t mind being away from them, as she was busy making the house habitable.

  In another three days building materials were brought and repairs on the house started. Albert had suggested that perhaps Florence would like to go back home to Dover until the house was once again put to rights, but she refused.

  “This is now my home and I will oversee what needs to be done. I will be fine. You concentrate on ensuring that the workers are doing a good job. Meanwhile, I will prepare meals for them. If possible, could you get me one or two women from the village to come and help me?”

  Albert soon arranged that, and brought in two of the loyal servants who had to leave when the estate fell into trouble and they couldn’t be paid. It was a mother and daughter, and Florence soon found herself being treated like she was royalty. Annabelle Shore and her daughter, Charlotte, wouldn’t let her do any hard work. They allowed her to do light duties because she was the lady of the house, and Florence decided there and then that she would put them back on the payroll. Now all they needed was a butler, because every noble house required one. Charlotte suggested her own husband, and when Albert met him, the deal was sealed.

  Within a short time the dower house had taken on a different look and Albert felt a glow of pride within his breast. He found himself singing as he took a walk around the house, remembering how it was in the days when his grandmother lived there.

  “Laughter will return to this estate,” he spoke to himself. “We shall be happy once again.”

  Perhaps what made him even happier was his wife. She was a good organizer, and soon had the old furniture removed and given to Charlotte and Benjy, her husband, for their cottage at the edge of the estate. Albert had inspected the old houses on his estate, for now he had horses to ride, and those which couldn’t be inhabited were torn down, while those that needed repairs were handed over to the contractors and soon he had people asking to be tenants on the estate.

  Florence watched as the life seemed to shine out of her husband’s eyes and she felt happy knowing that she had restored the dignity of this wonderful man. She saw how he interacted with the workers. He was free with them, but they respected him because of his title. He didn’t lord it over anyone, respect just came naturally to him.

  “My husband,” she found herself repeating over and over again. She had given him the choice of taking a mistress but it distressed her heart. If only he could love her, though she knew that wasn’t likely to happen. According to Miss Rhoda, men loved beautiful woman, which is why those women who were plain looking often took a longer time to get married, unless they had money to attract husbands. In her own case she wasn’t even plain, she was ugly and that was something she would learn to live with.

  “Flo? Where are you?” Albert strode into the empty house. “The carts which were bringing our new furniture are at the gate and I just wanted to know that we’re ready for them.”

  “That we are, I’m glad all this is being done today. I am so tired that I could sleep for a whole week.”

  “You deserve it. I promise when all is right, you can take all the time you need to rest. Annabelle and Charlotte are here to help, so you need time to be pampered as well.”

  “That will be nice.”

  Among the things that Florence had asked her father for, there were many volumes of books and paperbacks, which she carefully arranged in the small room that Albert had decided would be his study. She also bought two large couches on which she would often recline as she was reading, and many times Albert found her fast asleep with a half-smile on her face.

  This was a contented woman, and with each passing day Albert found himself falling deeper in love with her. She was witty, funny and could make good conversation. They talked about everything, from the weather to the just ended war and politics in London.

  “Now that the war is over in France, perhaps our Regent should think about conquering more lands,” Florence told her husband one evening. “England is a powerful country and the world needs to know that.”

  “They already do, but we are still recovering from the War in America and then the Napoleonic Wars. We need time to rebuild our military strength before we can go conquering more lands.”

  “I say that if England keeps delaying, we may lose our chances of getting new land. The other European countries are also going out. Spain, Portugal, Belgium and Germany have strong armies and if they decide to go out in search of new lands, I’m afraid England will be left behind.”

  “How is it that you know so much about world affairs, Flo?”

  “Back at home, Papa would come to my room and we would talk about what was going in the world for hours. He would bring me periodicals and newspapers which Miss Rhoda and I would study during the day, and when he came in the evening we would have our discussions.”

  “You’re one of the smartest and most intelligent women I have ever seen,” he smiled tenderly at her and she felt a glow within. “I could sit here and talk with you the whole day and the whole night.”

  “And then who would carry out the duties of the lord of the estate, dear husband?”

  “With a smart wife like you, things would soon be done.”

  10

  The Unravelling

  Florence couldn’t believe that anyone could be as happy as she was. Albert was her husband in every sense of the word and she knew that she was already in love with him. However, she was cautious not to imagine that he loved her back.
She wasn’t the kind of woman that a man like Albert loved, but he was a good husband.

  She also knew that he would never embarrass or humiliate her, and just that morning he had told her something that had her thinking deeply.

  “The only children I will ever have are with my own wife,” he had said as he exited the bedroom they now shared. “Think about that.”

  And she did. The one fear that Florence had was that she would give birth to a child with a harelip like hers, and the child would go through life being rejected and thought of as ugly. That filled her with a lot of dread and she prayed every day that it wouldn’t happen.

  When Albert announced that he was going to London to seek further treatment for his hand, she encouraged him to go. That would give her time to come to terms with the marriage and what it meant in future. Was she prepared to take the risk of having a child, knowing he or she could be born with the same defect as hers?

  Albert had thought long and hard about his hand, which was quite useless and was losing feeling. If he didn’t do something about it, it might get to a point where it would become gangrenous. It was actually Florence who had told him about an article she read while back in Dover, that doctors in London were now able to treat soldiers who had come from the battlefield with useless limbs.

  “Isn’t it amazing that with each passing day, new discoveries are made in medicine?” She had said a few days earlier. “It’s now possible for those who were unable to use their limbs to do so, with new treatments that are coming up.” Florence had looked at his withering hand, as if urging him to seek further treatment. “Dead nerves are now being given life again.”

  “You’ve sold me on the idea, so let me find out some more and then we shall see what happens in the next few days.” The more Albert thought about what his wife had told him, the more it appealed to him. What was more, he now had money, plenty of it, to seek proper treatment.

  When Albert was sure that his home front was secure, he decided to travel to London and find out for himself if what his wife had told him was true. He found that with each step that the carriage took away from his home, he felt as if his heart were being unravelled piece by piece, and being left behind. He had no idea how long he would be away from home, so he had written to Miss Rhoda and told her that he was undertaking a journey that would keep him away, and if she could find a way of coming to stay with Florence.

  What made his heart glad were the tears he had seen lurking behind his wife’s eyes as she bid him farewell. She pretended not to be greatly affected, but it warmed him to know that he would be missed. He would have a home to come to when he returned, whenever. Now that the war was over and scores of soldiers were returning from the battlefields all over Europe, there was no telling how long the queues would be at the hospitals, with patients waiting to be attended to.

  Just like he had feared, there were hundreds of soldiers waiting to receive the newest forms of treatment and the doctors were swamped with work. He was put on a four months waiting list and because he had the means, he leased a small town house and employed a valet to take care of all his needs. He could now afford it, and each day he went to the London Metropolitan Hospital to see if there was anything he could do to help, without having to use his injured hand.

  A few of his colleagues wanted to give him preferential treatment but he declined. “Everyone has a right to receive treatment in a timely manner. Besides, my own injuries aren’t as severe as some of the ones presented here. Four months isn’t a long time to wait since this isn’t a matter of life and death.”

  Daily he would write to Florence and tell her about what was happening in London, how opera houses were once again being opened and how he wished she was there with him, so they could visit the theatres they had discussed at length. And he really meant it. Florence would have loved some of the educational plays, while scoffing at the more satirical ones. He made a promise that when he was healed, he would convince his wife to travel to London with him, and it would give him much pleasure to show her around.

  Florence received Albert’s letters with a lot of joy each day, her eyes glowing. Annabelle and Charlotte would often smile and nudge each other when they saw their lady lost in the raptures of the missives from her husband. She was a good mistress and with time they even forgot her disfigurement.

  When Albert was gone, Florence found herself missing him terribly and she counted the days when she would see him again. He had told her about being on a waiting list that was four months long, and even then he wasn’t sure if the surgery could be done successfully.

  Finally the day came when Albert wrote and told her that in about three days’ time he would be observed by the doctors and advised on what to do. She had to wait another seven days before she received a letter from her husband.

  “According to one of my colleagues here, the only way I will gain the use of my right hand at all, is if I travel to New Delhi, India. I have only been there once before, but Dr. Salmon says their treatment is more advanced than what we have in London.

  I have weighed all my options and decided to travel to India. I know this means that I will be away from home for longer than expected, but immediately I get to India I will write to you so you can communicate with me.”

  Florence wept when she read this letter. It seemed as though her husband was being taken further from her, but in a way she was glad he was away from home. It gave her a lot of time to think, especially given the current circumstances.

  It was Annabelle who noticed her paleness, lack of appetite and the nausea, and told her the dreaded words. “My lady, you’re with child.”

  Florence hadn’t wanted to believe that it was possible but with time she realized that it was true. The worst had happened and now she didn’t know what to do. It ate at her for days, knowing that her husband was facing surgery in another country, and she was expecting their child. A baby who would probably be born with a defect. What was she to do?

  Albert woke from his surgery and looked around the room, glad to have money to afford special treatment. He was also glad that at the last minute, Gregory, his valet, had insisted on coming with him.

  “You will need me, my lord,” Gregory had argued. “You’ll be in a foreign land and won’t understand the language. You need someone to run around for you, my lord.”

  And now Albert was glad he had brought the man with him. He felt quite groggy and his hand felt really heavy. He looked at the bandages and sighed, wondering whether the doctors had succeeded. The bandages would come off in the next few days and he would be able to tell whether it had all been a waste of time or not.

  When the bandages came off a few days later and Albert was able to flex his once stiff fingers, he shed tears of joy, wishing Florence was there to share the moment with him. He had also spoken to the surgeon who had operated on him about corrective surgery for scarred faces. Dr. Gupta Patel had told him that as many as ten children were operated on each month to repair the cleft lip. And all surgeries were usually successful, with very little scarring. It gave him an idea and he began to think about bringing his wife here.

  Gregory also told him that he had walked around the New Delhi Mission Hospital and realized that they were lucky indeed. Many families had practically moved to the hospital to take care of loved ones who were on the waiting lists for one procedure or the other.

  “It is the most pitiful thing, my lord,” the usually stoic Gregory looked slightly shaken. “I have never seen so much suffering, and yet I thought our situation in London is terrible. It is heaven compared to this. I found out that some people have been waiting for as long as a full year to get treated, and when they get back home, they usually find that their land or property has been taken over by other people. The poverty levels in this country are dismaying.”

  “I am just grateful to the Lord for taking me through all this.”

  “Oh, and I almost forgot,” Gregory reached into his pocket and pulled out a neatly folded envelope. “I w
ent by the Foreign Office and this letter came for you. I believe it is from my lady.”

  “Indeed it is. She must be anxious for news about the surgery. Gregory, get me paper, pen and ink. I want to write to my wife with my repaired hand.”

  Gregory went to do as bid and Albert tore open the envelope, extracted the letter and perused it, feeling his heart almost breaking.

  “My Lord,

  I pray that this letter finds you in good health after your surgery. We have all been praying that it will go well for you.

  There is something that I wish to discuss with you, and I know it will come as a shock to you. Please forgive me for it isn’t my intention to disturb you as you recuperate, but this is information that cannot wait. My lord, I am enceinte and set to put to bed soon. I put off telling you this until such a time as you would be well enough to receive the news.

  I will understand if you want me to leave your home, because the chances of bringing forth a child with the defect of having a harelip like mine are very high. It is a delicate and very stigmatizing situation which I don’t want you to have to deal with. It is my problem now and I will deal with it, since I have lived this life and will know how to take care of a child with a defect such as mine.