“Prison?” Lydia was perplexed by her statement. “What are you talking about?”
“He had acquired so many gambling debts at White’s club.” Ellen lowered her voice to a hushed tone. “He had to escape to the continent to avoid the debtors.”
“Why didn’t his father help to pay some of the debts?”
“He had disowned him by then,” she remarked with a haughty expression. “Especially, after rumours of an alleged child born out of wedlock.”
“Whose child?” Lydia asked.
“We’ll never know. She got a small sum of money off the family.” Ellen glared at a nosy chaperone, who had been listening nearby. “That’s why Chester had to go to war.” She bent down to Lydia’s ear. “His father purchased a pair of colours with the Hussar regiment. He believed a stint in the army might be the making of him. It also kept him away from more gambling and debauchery, until the scandal blew over.”
“I heard from one of the officers, that he had gained a medal at the Battle of Almeida last year.” Lydia noticed her mood began to soften. “He engaged his regiment in a fierce battle near the Spanish-Portuguese frontier.”
"That’s news to me,” Ellen exclaimed.
“He led his soldiers to safety from the raid of Almeida,” Lydia said proudly. “A courageous act that caught the eye of Wellington.”
“Wellington indeed.” Ellen finished her drink lost in thought. “Maybe he is a reformed character. But I fear not with the ladies.”
A gentleman came behind them and tapped Lydia on the shoulder. “Lydia make haste.” Ellen ordered without a backward glance. “Get ready for your last dance.”
“Not again.” Lydia inwardly groaned. “I bet he’s short, fat and bald.”
“I hope that is not the case,” a deep voice boomed. “But I can dance.”
Lydia gazed at the alluring green eyes of the Duke of Chester. “Forgive my jest.” Her eyes lingered on his physique. “I find your appearance very agreeable.”
She heard an audible gasp from her mother. Her stony stare reflected what she was thinking. How dare she be so familiar with a man.
Lydia was embarrassment by her blunder. “I mean..” It was too late to retract what she had said.
“I understand what you meant.” The duke came to her rescue. “Like most of the young ladies at the ball tonight.” He glanced over to the officers and ladies gaily dancing the cotillion on the dance floor. “You admire the fit attributes of a soldier.” He looked back at Lydia with a mischievous grin. “For dancing and gaiety.”
“Indeed.” She gave a heartfelt smile. “It is strong and fit soldiers like yourself, who are winning the war against Napoleon.”
"Strong and agile men always win on the battlefield.” He lightly kissed her gloved hand. And the charms of a woman in the bedroom, his eyes reflected. “My darling Lydia.”
“You remember me?” She asked with genuine surprise. “The last time you saw me I was a little girl.”
“And now she is a respectable young woman,” Ellen said with an icy stare. She was not fooled by his interest. Once a rake, always a rake. Despite his elegant clothes and manners.
“Mrs Somerville.” He gave a gracious bow. “I had the pleasure of your husband’s company in the library. When he mentioned you were both here, I said I would call upon you.”
Lydia was pleased to see the duke in a more amenable mood. A few rums with her father had seen to that, along with the swift collection of his wager. “I recognised Lydia as soon as I came through the door.”
Lydia’s heart skipped a beat. Out of all the beautiful women in the ball, his eyes had fallen upon her charms.
Chester turned his attentions back to Lydia. “I see that you are a child no longer.” He viewed her heaving bosom with pleasure. “You have grown into a very attractive young woman.”
“A chaperoned young lady,” Ellen said, aware of the roving wolf beneath the polite façade.
“Mrs Somerville, the intervening years have been kind to you,” Chester said with a charming smile.
Ellen quickly rose from her chair. “Only fickle young girls fall for empty compliments,” she said coldly. “My daughter is not one of them.” She glared down at Lydia. “We must take our leave.”
“But Mama.” Lydia looked back at Chester, embarrassed by her abrupt manner. “You cannot deny me one last dance.”
“It’s too late to dance.” She beckoned Lydia to follow her. “Go and get your father in the library.” A stream of jovial gentlemen began to leave the library to collect their wives. “He must be ready to go home.”
“I wish that were true,” the duke said with coy smile. “The last time I spoke to Robert, he was three sheets to the wind.”
“He’s ape drunk!” Ellen said. “I told him to stay off the rum. Wait till I get my hands on him.” She gathered her skirt and quickly walked ahead.
“Mama?” Lydia said. “While you collect Papa, could I have the last dance?”
“Mrs Somerville?” Chester called after her. “I assure you I will look after her.”
I bet you will, Ellen mused. “Just one dance.” She flapped her hand in an irritated manner, as she rushed towards the library.
Lydia thought she was in a dream, as she danced the quadrille with the last remaining dancers on the floor. The square formation of the country-dance, gave Lydia an opportunity to observe the duke’s athletic physique to full advantage.
He was a skilful dancer with a natural rhythm. Every time their hands touched, Lydia felt a shiver of excitement down her spine. She was spellbound by the duke. Scandalous thoughts flashed through her mind. She was seduced by thoughts of married love.
Lydia stumbled on the dance floor, overcome by the intensity of her thoughts.
“Lydia?” Chester clasped hold of her. “Are you not well?” He led her to the side of the dance floor.
“Forgive my lapse of concentration,” she panted with a heaving bosom. “I just had a strange thought.”
“Was I part of it?” He looked down at her shapely breasts with a mischievous grin. “I would love to be part of you.”
“Chester?” Lydia flushed with embarrassment. Had he read her thoughts? “I’m not that kind of woman.”
“You know that’s not true.” He held her tight and stared deep into her eyes. “You’ve been flirting with me all through the dance.”
“Not in the way you think.” She tried to push him away, but his hold was too powerful. She desperately looked over her shoulder for her mother, but she was nowhere in sight.
Lydia was in danger. The duke was seducing her with his charm. He was on the hunt to break down the barriers to her heart. Then he would ravish her chaste body and cast her aside with a broken heart. She had to walk away from him, before she lost control of her senses.
Her mother was right to oppose a match with Chester. He had not changed his ways. He was still a notorious gambler and womaniser, who seduced any woman that took his fancy. When Lydia knew him as a little girl, he was no threat to her then. He was just another handsome gentleman, who smiled and teased her on the way to a hunting party.
Now that she was a full grown woman, with a voluptuous figure that he desired, she felt uneasy. Lydia had to escape.
The ball had come to an end. The last few people in the hall walked towards a row of carriages waiting outside.
“I must take my leave.” She pushed the duke away and walked towards the library. “Lydia?” The duke was incensed by her manner. He was not used to a public rebuttal by a woman. “How dare you walk away from me?” He pulled her back by the arm. “Did you hear what I said?”
“Let me go.” She shrugged off his tight grip. “I'm not one of your harlots that you pay for pleasure.”
“What did you say?” Chester was visibly embarrassed by her comment.
“I meant to say.” Lydia could not believe what she had said. Fortunately, no one else had heard her remark. The ballroom was empty now, apart from a
few footmen clearing away the last remnants of food and drink from the tables.
“I may have been like that once,” Chester said with an impassive expression. “But since I’ve come back from the peninsular wars, I am a changed man.” He stood proud with a brooding look in his eye.
“I’m sure you are.” Lydia became distracted by her mother. She had come out of the library with her drunken father on her arm. “But Mama is not.”
“It’s you I want to see,” Chester said sharply. “Not your mother!”
They both stared at each other, then laughed at the absurdity of his comment. “You are a lot prettier than your mother,” the duke said. “And more sober than your father.” He declared with a wry smile. “Who is certainly ape drunk.”
“Poor Papa,” Lydia sympathised. “He must have drunk the punch that was on offer.”
Chester looked back at Lydia. “I fear that my loose tongue was the result of too much punch myself.”
“You’ll have a bad head in the morning.” Lydia scolded with her finger. “Along with my father.” They became distracted by Ellen’s loud nagging. She chastised Robert for being drunk and disorderly.
“I believe your father will wake up with two bad heads,” Chester said. “One from the drink and one from the constant noise of a nagging wife.”
They both laughed out loud. Lydia began to have second thoughts about the duke. Maybe she was being too harsh. The punch had gone to his head and made him say vulgar words he would normally not say.
The duke gently touched her arm. “I’m sorry I spoke out of turn before. Will you accept my apology?”
“Of course,” Lydia said meekly. “I understand.”
“Shall we meet again?” He asked.
Lydia looked back to her mother, who began to advance towards them, with her father staggering behind. She had to act quickly. “I’ll be at Lord Wessex’s ball next week.”
“I’ll see you there my love,” the duke said with a broad smile.
Lydia walked over to her mother, who had taken Robert outside to a waiting coach. She stood back and watched in horror, as two footmen tried to push her drunken father into the confines of the coach.
But no matter how hard they pushed, he fell back on the floor in a crumpled heap. On the third attempt, Ellen intervened and gave her husband a good kick up the backside. That did the trick. Robert crashed inside the coach before you could say poppycock!
Lydia looked back into the ballroom and hoped that Chester had not seen the comical antics of her father. But he was avidly watching. Not at the embarrassing capers behind her. But watching her alone.
Lydia’s eyes locked onto the intensity of his gaze. It filled her with joy and trepidation. The memory of his gaze lingered, long after the ball. Was she falling in love? Was this how married love was like? How she yearned to taste true love. Did Chester too?
Chapter 4
The sudden jerk of the carriage brought Lydia back to her wedding day. The sudden realisation made her feel warm and secure. She didn’t have to dream anymore. She really was about to marry the most handsome duke in the county.
However, there was one person determined to destroy her happiness, her future mother in law, the Dowager Duchess of Chester. The duke was an only child, who had survived the childhood illnesses that claimed three of his siblings.
Since the death of Charles Claremont, the Duke of Chester, the new duke was now the heir apparent. The dowager put all of her ambitions onto Chester’s shoulders, to marry a respectable bride and continue the family name with a heir.
But the duke was not interested in marriage. He missed his father and got over his grief by drinking and gambling. It was his uncle, Lord Angus Sterling, who finally got him to exert some discipline in his life, with a purchase of a regiment to fight in the peninsular wars.
The discipline required to command a regiment, changed Chester from a frivolous rake to a respectable gentleman, who upheld the traditional values of his English family. He had also found a woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with – Lydia Somerville.
Unfortunately, the duchess did not view his betrothed with the same sentiment. The moment she set eyes on Lydia, she made it clear she did not welcome a lowly baker’s daughter, as a prospectus daughter in law and that her family ‘smelled of shop.”
In a world of polite conversation and good manners, the duchess engaged in a different set of rules with Lydia. At family gatherings, she deliberately ignored her presence, which made it difficult for Lydia to engage in polite conversation.
When she was finally permitted to speak, the duchess remained silent, making it equally difficult for her to progress in a conversation. They were all sabotage techniques by the duchess to isolate Lydia and turn the attention back on herself.
She was determined to get rid of Lydia and have the duke betrothed to a lady from a high ranking family. A good match was essential to breed a respectable heir for the family lineage.
Unfortunately, disaster struck when Lydia’s mother, Ellen, died of tuberculosis after a long illness. A strong bond formed between Lydia and Chester, as they mutually supported each other through their respective bereavements.
But the duchess continued to oppose the union and began to distant herself from Lydia’s family.
“It hasn’t been an easy year for both families,” Lydia reflected. “With two bereavements to bear.”
“Despite the loss of our loved ones.” Robert gently embraced her. “We must look to the future. One day you’ll have an heir for both families.” He pulled a wry face. “Hopefully, a male grandson. I’ve been surrounded by too many women all my life.”
“We’ll see.” Lydia fell quiet for a moment. “I just wish the duchess approved of our marriage.” She let out a sigh. “She’s always had doubts about Chester’s betrothal to a “lowly” baker’s daughter.”
“Has she now.” Robert boldly clutched his cane. “We’re just as good as the ton.” He proudly sat up in the carriage. “Despite my grandfather being an Earl, I built my bakery business from nothing, once he gambled the family’s fortunes away.” He wagged his finger. “You’re a good Yorkshire lass from a hard working family. Don’t you forget it?”
“Steady on Papa. I will always be proud of my family.” Lydia placed her hand on his shoulder. “At the end of the day, I’m marrying Chester. Not his horrible mother.”
“That’s the spirit!” Robert punched the air with his fist. “Spoken like a true Yorkshire lass.”
They both laughed as the carriage came to a halt outside the church.
Vicar Jones of St Albans rushed over and opened the carriage door with a concerned expression. “The bridegroom hasn’t arrived yet.” He glanced up at the driver. “You’ll have to go round the village green again.” He shut the door, as the horses began to trot forward.
“Stop Mason!” Robert commanded. “I cannot stand another round of bumps and jerks in this carriage.” Mason jumped down and opened the carriage door, while a young groom held the reins of the leader horse. “It’s not doing my back any good at all.”
“Forgive my swift exertion,” the vicar said. “But where shall you wait with the bride?”
“We’ll wait in the church foyer,” Robert said abruptly, as he alighted from the carriage.
“Vicar Jones,” Lydia called out from the carriage. “Where is Chester?” She perched forward on her seat. “He should have been here by now?”
“Don’t overset yourself my child,” the vicar urged. “I believe his coachman may have taken a wrong turn.” He tightly clasped his pray book in his hands. “He is not familiar with the rural lanes round these parts.”
Robert held out his hand to Lydia. “Make haste my dear.” The arthritis in his shoulder was playing up. “We must get you into the church before Chester sees you.” Lydia quickly stepped down the carriage step. “It’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding.”
Chapter 5
Lydia looked through the archway into the chapel. She was pleased to see a few close members of her family already seated in the church pews. However, no one from Chester’s family had arrived, particularly, his mother and her brother the Marquis of Surrey, who had given his approval to witness the marriage.
“Have you heard from the Dowager Duchess of Chester?” Lydia asked the vicar, as they stood by the church doorway. “I assume Chester will arrive in the same coach.”
“I believe they are traveling in two different coaches,” he replied, as he kept a discreet eye on the horizon for a grand carriage.
Robert Somerville viewed the empty country lane with dismay. “Did you say two coaches?” He enquired. “Whatever for?”
“The duchess expressed a desire for the couple to leave the church in a more,” he struggled to find the right words. “Suitable carriage.” He watched Robert’s face dissolve into anger. “It has the Claremont coat-of- arms prominently displayed on the coach door.” He gave a wry smile. “As is fitting for their status.”
“Their status! Their coat-of- arms!” Robert exclaimed, annoyed that the in-laws had already stamped their authority onto his family. “So my humble barouche is not good enough for the Claremonts.”
“I think a coach may be sturdier for the country lanes,” the vicar said diplomatically. “It’s a longer journey from the Duke of Chester’s country estate.” The vicar turned his attention back to the horizon. “Here they are now.”
A coach horn and the hurried shouts of a coachman were heard in the distance. A very grand coach, with the family coat-of-arms prominently displayed on the door panel, raced towards the church with six elegant horses. Two footmen, attired in smart livery, stood in attendance at the rear of the coach.
“Why are they blowing a horn?” Robert huffed. “They’re coming to a church, not the next coaching inn on the way to London.”
Lydia could hardly contain her excitement, as the coach horn boomed their arrival once more. “My handsome duke.” She clung onto her father’s arm, slightly overcome.
Robert could see her being seduced by the family’s power and wealth. “Calm down Lydia.” He stepped her to one side. “Don’t let your head be turned by wealth,” he quietly lectured.
“Our family has standards too.” He lowered his voice to a quiet hush. “Always remember, you’re a Somerville first and a Claremont second.”