The Odd Riddle of the Lost Duchess: A Historical Regency Romance Novel Read online

  The Odd Riddle of the Lost Duchess

  A Historical Regency Romance Novel

  Emma Linfield

  Edited by

  Robin Spencer

  Contents

  A Thank You Gift

  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

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Epilogue

  Extended Epilogue

  The Unusual Story of the Silent Duchess

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Also by Emma Linfield

  About the Author

  A Thank You Gift

  Thanks a lot for purchasing my book. It really means a lot to me, because this is the best way to show me your love.

  As a Thank You gift I have written a full length novel for you called The Betrayed Lady Winters. It’s only available to people who have downloaded one of my books and you can get your free copy by tapping this link here.

  Once more, thanks a lot for your love and support.

  With love and appreciation,

  Emma Linfield

  About the Book

  I died a few hours ago. Noah, don't let go of me. My enemy, my friend, my lover...

  Just a shawl and a chocolate box were left behind after the terrible accident that took Emmeline's life. Noah her sworn enemy…and devoted lover…is the only man that hasn’t lost hope on her.

  Born to hate each other. Lady Emmeline Grant and Noah Fitzroy, the dashing Duke of Newberry ought to continue the traditional rivalry between their families, hatred running in their veins. Yet, love flourished in their hearts like a rose in the desert, taking everyone by storm and causing chaos.

  Unable to come to terms with the tragedy, Noah struggles to unravel the mystery of his lover's sudden death.

  Prologue

  Fireflies

  Inky streaks of gray marred the cyan smoothness of a summer sky as pinpricks of stars began appearing. It was the time fireflies roused to enlighten a world that was increasingly growing darker. Ten-year-old Lady Emmeline Grant wondered how the pretty insects felt, slumbering in their own time, wakening when it suited them, and then glowing as magical creatures in a dwelling of trees and flowers.

  Emmeline bent down to catch one in a glass jar which she had stolen from her father’s study; the latter was considered quite eccentric because of his interests in observing insects.

  A firefly flew into the jar, and she had nearly covered the opening with muslin when a nearby voice startled her. “What are you doing?”

  The jar slid out of her hands as she shrieked. With her heart beating fiercely, she spun around to find an older dark-haired boy, leaning against a tree trunk.

  “Who are you?” she scowled. “I almost caught one!”

  The boy raised an eyebrow arrogantly. “I am Noah Fitzroy Why are you disrupting their peace, little girl? Let them be!”

  “You do not tell me what to do,” Emmeline declared, sticking out her tongue to prove the point.

  Noah did not seem impressed.

  Emmeline bristled at his censoring gaze. “You do know that I would release it after making a study?”

  “How would you feel if something giant trapped you in a jar and then observed you?” he raised a dark brow.

  She was abashed. Who was this boy to tell her what to do?

  “My father does it,” Emmeline explained defensively. “He makes sure they do not get hurt.”

  “How?” Noah demanded. “How can you be sure they do not lack the air they need? Insects are living creatures, not one of your inanimate rag dolls to play with.”

  In spite of her ire, Noah’s words made sense to her. She decided to discuss the subject with her father, but for now, she was somewhat disturbed. What if her father unknowingly harmed the creatures in some way? Considering his words, she nodded, and a pleased Noah smiled.

  “I feel that people do not think on their actions before curiosity overtakes them. If you want to observe them, then why not do so in nature?” Noah asked her.

  Emmeline was hesitant, “What do you mean?”

  “Come over, and I’ll show you,” the boy replied while beckoning.

  Fright crammed its way into Emmeline’s mind, and before she knew it, she had spun on her heel and was about to run off when he called over, “I will not hurt you, you know. A gentleman does not hurt ladies.”

  Turning back, she did her best to assess him in the waning light. His posture was non-threating, and he had not moved from his place. She hoped she could trust him, so, stepping tentatively forward, Emmeline reached out to take his hand, but nervously dropped it short.

  “What are you doing here, though?” she asked, after several moments. “This property belongs to my father, and I have never seen you here.”

  Noah grinned. “I am staying with my uncle over there,” he pointed to a blurred roof somewhere towards the west, behind a line of trees. Her brother had once pointed out the house to her and mentioned a name that she could not remember now.

  “You did not even ask my name,” Emmeline remarked.

  “You did not deign to tell it,” he responded indifferently.

  “You are quite annoying, you know!” she turned to frown at him. “I am Lady Emmeline Grant.”

  “It is nice to meet you, Lady Emmeline.” Noah held out a hand like a proper gentleman.

  Emmeline hesitated, then placed her smaller one in his. His lips were soft and cool on her skin. She shivered and blushed furiously while plucking her hand out of his grasp.

  He shrugged. “My mother says that is the way to greet a lady.”

  “Emmeline?” a voice called.

  The children saw an adolescent boy walking towards them. Emmeline recognized her brother, George.

  “It is late, what are you doing…?” George’s voice trailed.

  Her brother scrutinized the stranger before him. Remembering her manners, Emmeline hastily made introductions.

  George’s eyes widened at Noah’s name. He greeted the boy curtly and then pulled his sister’s hand strongly. “Come, Emmeline, Mother will be angry.”

  Dragged most of the way to the mansion, Emmeline finally managed to yank her arm from George’s painful grasp. “George, whatever is the matter with you?”

  George halted before the gates of the Grant country home.

  “Emmeline,” his face was flushed with anger. “Do not ever speak to that boy again. He is a Fitzroy!”

  Emmeline was aghast at her brother’s tone. “What?”

  “The Fitzroys have been our enemies for generations! Do you not listen to Grandfather’s stories?” George scowled.

  Her grandfather was prone to tell old-winded stories and it was the truth that she found them quite boring, so most of what he said passed over her head. Yawning, Emmeline shrugged. “Sometimes.”

  However, she was a tad disturbed. She really had liked Noah.

  Chapter 1

  An Encounter in the Library

  Scents of sweet jasmine, roses, and damp earth wafted in the surrounding air of Croxton House in London. The gardens were a masterpiece. Small fountains were situated centrally in circular clearings, while elaborately-trimmed hedges flanked various concealed benches and beds of exotic flowers. One could aimlessly wander in its confines for a breath of fresh air, or meet in a hidden corner for a tryst

  Lady Emmeline Grant, sister of George, The Duke of Leverton, was certain that a couple was indulged in the latter activity, as soft murmurs and light giggles erupted in the bushes behind her. Shaking her head, she reasoned that it had to be a brave lady–or an incredibly foolish one–to carry out an affair under the keen scrutiny of the ton.

  Emmeline merely had to wear an unpopular hue of a gown to cause them to shake their heads with ill-concealed disdain, making her subject to their barbs of how she constantly dismissed the rules of current fashion.

  She, however, was personally satisfied, even though her current gown of gold was not at all fashionable for young debutantes. She had tired of the pale pastels that were deemed appropriate for her age. Despite the raised eyebrows and thinly-veiled comments, her dance card had been full.

  Light giggles, deep male laughter, melodious music, and idle chatter echoed from the doors leading into the ballroom.

  She walked to a bench near a fountain, closing her eyes as she leaned against the cool tree trunk behind her. Her feet ached from dancing with all the eligible bachelors her aunt had managed to introduce to her. She slipped the satin gold gloves off her arms and flexed her numb fingers.
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  It had been quite difficult escaping from her chaperone, her aunt, Lady Alford. It was not considered appropriate to be wandering alone in the gardens, but Emmeline had planned to meet her friend Ann there and was extremely tired of tolerating the nonsensical social chatter in the ballroom beyond.

  “One would expect to find a male companion with you in the gardens, My Lady.”

  The voice was a pleasant deep baritone, causing her tired senses to jar awake–as she knew that voice, but despised it.

  Emmeline opened her eyes to pinpoint the carrier. The voice belonged to a tall man, who was leaning against a tree to her right. His form was barely visible in the faint moonlight, but the fiery point of a lit cigar waving in the air anchored him to the spot.

  She wondered whether she should walk to another area of the garden, for she craved solitude and was not in for another bout of jousting with this particular man–Noah, the Duke of Newberry. “One would expect to find some relief from social chatter in the confines of a garden,” Emmeline said huffily.

  The boy she had met twelve years ago on her estate had grown to a man, with hair that seemed to be ever windswept, and dark gray eyes that had taken on a mocking light whenever the two met.

  When she was younger, Emmeline had not known or cared about the feud between her family and Newberry’s. In fact, she still didn’t care much for it–it was Noah that aggravated her nerves.

  The man was much too…smug for her liking. Having been educated at Oxford, and a professed bibliophile, the Duke had become the bane to her existence whenever they met in London, even as she did her best to ignore him.

  He, however, made sure to notice and aggravate her. The two had met at an assembly in London, three months after a prior meet. He had snidely quoted from Shakespeare’s Much Ado About Nothing, pushing Emmeline into the position of playing Beatrice to his Benedick by his recitation, “What, my dear Lady Disdain, are you yet living?”

  Bristling with anger, Emmeline had replied, quoting from the same play, “Is it possible Disdain should die while she hath such meet food to feed it as Signor Fitzroy? Courtesy itself must convert to Didain if you come in her presence.”

  Emmeline never quite understood her standing with this man as, truly, she didn’t know much of men. She did know, however, that when she was within ten feet of him her insides would start to flutter.

  At the age of twenty, she had almost been labeled past marriageable age, and a bluestocking. Her previous season was at the age of eight-and-ten when her father had been alive. He had succumbed to influenza mere months after her coming out. His death had coincided with the Duke of Newberry going off to Paris for a year.

  Now, however, with the stabilization of the dukedom, her brother George, the Duke of Leverton, was resolute in arranging a season to find her a suitable husband.

  “And what might you be escaping from, Lady Emmeline? Some unsuitable suitors perhaps, or is the wine not to your liking?” the Duke asked. “My Lady, you will not find relief from any of that anywhere in London, unless you decide to run to Scotland.”

  What is his aim with that suggestion? To aggravate me? Emmeline wondered crossly.

  “That sounds much more appealing than being in your company,” Emmeline suggested, annoyed.

  He chuckled and after crushing the cigar, departed. She saw a flicker of dark hair and an aristocratic face as he walked away from her without a word. She knew she had been a tad rude, but she had craved silence to think and plan her next move.

  It was known that Croxton House, the homestead of Viscount Croxton, who had shared the same inquisitive passions as her father, housed rare medieval volumes, and modern books on science, theology, and exoteric cultures, and Emmeline was set on examining them.

  Her friend Ann had not yet arrived in the gardens, and it would not do well for her reputation, to be waiting outside for long. She needed to return inside, but not to the ballroom, to the library. She attempted to walk unnoticed to the spiral stairs, however, her aunt, Lady Alford, spotted her and was making her way towards her, so Emmeline fled.

  Bypassing the first set of stairs, she rushed to the second spiral staircase at the farther end of the hall and climbed to the next floor. Two carved oak doors indicated the entrance to the library, and, as Emmeline walked in, she let out a breath.

  It was a relief that the hinges were well-oiled, for she did not wish to alert anyone of her presence with a noisome squeak. The lack of people was very much welcome, and soothing for Emmeline’s jarred nerves. She could not bear to be introduced to another eligible bachelor that evening.

  Aunt Catherine’s London townhouse had become a prison for Emmeline. She was scrutinized all day, by the gentlemen whom called upon her every morning to demand her company, either for a carriage ride into Hyde Park, or for tea at her Aunt’s home.

  Accustomed to a solitary life at her country manor, Emmeline detested being exposed to innumerable social demands. Her brother, on the contrary, enjoyed the entertainment offered by London–he was seen often in gaming halls and privileged gentleman’s clubs.

  George also possibly enjoys the company of women of questionable character, Emmeline thought darkly. But he’d have me married off immediately to a wealthy titled man, while he does as he pleases.

  Emmeline knew that it was hardly fitting to be wandering into a library unaccompanied by her friend or aunt, but if someone came upon her, she could always make an excuse–flimsy as it was–of looking for the retiring room.

  However, examining the room was irresistible for her. She focused on the magnificent library before her. It was apparent, by the beautifully-carved staircase to the enclave above, that Lord Croxton indulged in books. Unceremoniously discarding her filmy gold shawl, Emmeline lifted her skirts with one hand and began climbing the delicate stairway.

  Noah, the Duke of Newberry, after rejoining the ballroom, had observed the spectacle before him with great amusement and a bit of dislike. This tableau reminded him why he had avoided theses soirees and balls for years. Unable to accept the pretentiousness and frivolities, he had steered far from social events unless requested by a lady he was pursuing. Thus, he sought solitude in the library, waiting for his friend, Henry, to join him.

  It was hardly surprising that he would have met Lady Emmeline Grant in the garden, but he was surprised to see her there in the library. He silently watched her as she dumped her shawl on a chair, not even sparing him a glance, and then he realized that she was possibly in pursuit of a specific book.