Laurie Benson

His Three-Day Duchess


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‘We have just passed the church in the village. It won’t be long now.’

      The large Georgian house came into view after they rounded a rather narrow bend in the road. The late afternoon sun was making the pale rectangular stones appear more orange than beige. As Lizzy looked down to tie the string of her reticule, she missed noting there was smoke curling out of a number of chimneys, visible against the clear blue sky—more chimneys than were necessary for the number of servants residing in the house.

      The carriage rocked to a stop and the step was lowered. In the past, a footman had always been stationed in the entrance hall awaiting their arrival. This year, when so much of her life had changed, with the death of her husband and the marriages of both her sisters, the closed black door was making her feel like a stranger in the one place she had felt the most at home. She raised her chin and marched to the front door with her boots crunching in the snow, determined to push her feelings of sadness and unease out of her mind.

      The door opened just as she grabbed the ring of the doorknocker and she almost fell forward with the movement of the large wooden door. She might have landed on the polished marble floor if it wasn’t for the quick grasp of her former butler, who was staring down at her with a startled expression that probably matched her own.

      As if he had just realised he was holding his former employer in his arms, Simpkins quickly dropped his hands and took a step back. ‘Your Grace!’ It was an exclamation as much as a question and he glanced back to the corridor behind him that led to the private rooms of the house.

      ‘Hello, Simpkins. You are looking well.’ Or as well as a man could who looked as if he had seen a ghost.

      ‘Thank you, madam. I... I... I wasn’t expecting you.’

      ‘I imagine you were not,’ Lizzy said, untying her bonnet. ‘But as you can see, my aunt and I have decided to spend our Twelfth Night celebration here at Stonehaven.’

      ‘You have?’

      ‘Yes. I realise I should have sent word that we were coming so that you and Mrs Moggs could have the house and staff in order. However, I just decided yesterday that there was no sense breaking this tradition since we have spent our holidays here since I became the Duchess.’

      She handed her bonnet to Simpkins, who took it reluctantly, and then went to work quickly on the buttons of her black pelisse. If she could manage to plough through getting settled here, remaining for a fortnight should be easy. Before he had a chance to say anything, Lizzy continued. ‘Now, it has been a rather tiring journey and it’s rather cold out. Please see that a tea tray is brought to us in the Gold Drawing Room. We will wait there while you instruct a footman to remove the furniture covers and start a fire in the hearth. And I’ll need to speak with Mrs Moggs. While there are only two of us staying here this year, I would like to plan a menu out with her for our stay.’

      His eyes widened as Aunt Clara draped her cloak over his arm that was now serving as a coat rack for Lizzy’s pelisse. ‘Your stay? That is to say—’

      ‘I understand you were not prepared for our arrival. I realise it will take time to make the house ready for us. Do not fret. We are patient women and are prepared to endure a cold room and some discomfort until everything is arranged.’

      But as she walked towards the back corridor she suddenly caught the distinct smell of meat roasting and turned a questioning eye to her former butler. His wide eyes shifted from her to an area past her shoulder.

      ‘How very kind of you to inform Simpkins that you are willing to endure some discomfort, but I think it bears noting that he is no longer your butler, but mine.’

       Blast it! The man was supposed to be in Sicily. Why was he not in Sicily?

      Lizzy turned to face him and was taken aback at the sight of Mr Alexander wearing an unbuttoned blue-quilted banyan, black trousers, shiny black shoes, a black waistcoat and a crisp white shirt. He was missing his cravat, and his smooth neck and the slight dusting of hair near the opening of his shirt had her transfixed. It was proving impossible to look away and it wasn’t until he cleared his throat that she met him in the eye.

      ‘Simpkins had no idea my aunt and I were coming here.’ Thank heavens it was stated without the slightest crack in her voice.

      ‘I think that is quite obvious.’ He walked to Simpkins and motioned with his hands for the outer garments the butler was still holding. ‘I’ll take those and see to these unexpected visitors.’ After he took the pelisse and cloak from the man, he turned back to Lizzy. ‘It was kind of you to drop in on your way to wherever it is you are going, but as you can see from my attire, I’m not receiving callers at this time.’

      At the mention of his attire, it occurred to Lizzy that Mr Alexander was the only man outside her late husband that she had seen in such a state of undress and he looked far better in his banyan than the old Duke had ever looked in his.

      ‘Duchess, did you hear me?’

      ‘I heard you,’ she replied, shifting her gaze away from his exposed neck once again and up to his eyes. ‘We weren’t exactly calling on you. Not in a formal way.’

      ‘Well, I am not receiving callers in an informal way either. Now, be so kind as to take your things. Good day, ladies.’

      Lizzy wasn’t going to be so easily swayed from remaining at Stonehaven. If there was a way she could get him to leave the estate and agree to allow her to stay for the holiday, it would save what was left of a very trying year.

      ‘Forgive me,’ she said, giving him a bright smile. ‘I have not had the opportunity to introduce you to my aunt. This is Mrs Sommersby,’ she said, gesturing to Aunt Clara. ‘We have spent the holidays together since I was a child—and the last twelve of them we have spent here.’

      He gave Aunt Clara a respectful bow. ‘I am charmed,’ he replied rather smoothly, earning him a smile from her aunt.

      But when he turned back to Lizzy, his polite demeanour was put aside. He stepped up to her and held out her pelisse. ‘Well, now you can say that you have spent some time here this year, as well. I was kind enough to agree that you could stay in my London residence until the end of January since I had no need for it. I will not be granting you permission to stay in any of my other homes, including this one.’

      The emphasis was not lost on her and she felt her demeanour souring. ‘I heard you were somewhere in Sicily.’

      ‘As you can see, I have returned. I needed to be back here by Christmas.’

      ‘Why?’

      ‘You ask a lot of questions for someone who was caught trying to take up residence in a house that does not belong to you.’

      ‘It should have belonged to me. This should have been my house.’ The anger at her late husband was resurfacing.

      ‘But it’s not, though, is it? It is my house and because of that you have no right to order my servants about or to stay here without an invitation. And based on all those trunks that are being unloaded in the drive, it appears you were planning on staying here for quite some time.’

      ‘A fortnight...just a fortnight.’

      His eyes widened. ‘All those trunks are for a fortnight?’

      ‘There are two of us and our maids who have been travelling in my aunt’s carriage.’

      ‘That is still a substantial number of trunks for a fortnight.’

      ‘We are not coming from home and one can never have too many dresses when travelling. There are times you find yourself in unusual situations and you need to be prepared with the perfect ensemble.’

      ‘I see. Well, this certainly is an unusual situation. I’ve never had to throw a woman out of my house before.’

      His house? This was more her house than his! She had decorated it. She’d had the gardens restored. This was her sanctuary. It held no meaning to him. She raised her chin. ‘You