Her Grace in Disgrace

Claudia Harbaugh

Description

The Duke of Warwick is dead and Isobel, the young Duchess of Warwick, feels only relief. She is anxious to put the unhappy marriage behind her and embark on a new life. But Isobel's dream to start anew takes a horrible turn as the will reveals the duke's mistress is actually his lawfully wedded wife. In an instant, Isobel is demoted from duchess to plain Miss Kennilworth, tainted by scandal and shunned by society.Can Isobel get past the disgrace and humiliation she has endured and fight her way back into society? Will she find love again with her childhood sweetheart, Lord Saybrooke? Or perhaps she will rekindle a romance with Lord Westcott?But, before Isobel can find true love, she must come to grips with her past mistakes and the people she has hurt along the way. She must discover who she is without the title of Duchess to her name.

Sujets

• Historical romance

Informations

• Publié par: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Date de parution: 31 mars 2020
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781645368380
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 3 Mo

Extrait

Her Grace in Disgrace
Book One in the Widows of Woburn Place
Claudia Harbaugh
Austin Macauley Publishers
2020-03-31
Her Grace in Disgrace About the Author Dedication Copyright Information © Acknowledgment 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
About the Author
Claudia Harbaugh has had a love of ‘story’ for as long as she can remember. She enjoys reading, watching movies, listening to audiobooks, and, of course, writing. Claudia loves all things British—except maybe the food—and her favorite genre to read, watch, and write is historical fiction with a touch of romance.
Claudia has been happily married to husband, John, since 1981, and they currently live in Florida. Together, they have two grown daughters, two sons-in-law, and four grandsons.
Her Grace in Disgrace will be followed by at least three more novels in the series The Widows of Woburn Place .
Dedication
To my mother, Ellen Turberg Shaw, who has always loved me, encouraged me, and believed in me. Thank you for sharing your love of words with me and spending countless hours playing scrabble, solving crossword puzzles, unscrambling jumbles, and decoding cryptograms. And thanks for loving this book. I love you, Mom.
Copyright Information ©
Claudia Harbaugh (2020)
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher.
Any person who commits any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Ordering Information:
Quantity sales: special discounts are available on quantity purchases by corporations, associations, and others. For details, contact the publisher at the address below.
Publisher’s Cataloging-in-Publication data
Harbaugh, Claudia
Her Grace in Disgrace
ISBN 9781643786346 (Paperback)
ISBN 9781643786896 (Hardback)
ISBN 9781645368380 (ePub e-book)
Library of Congress Control Number: 2019957785
www.austinmacauley.com/us
First Published (2020)
Austin Macauley Publishers LLC
40 Wall Street, 28th Floor
New York, NY 10005
USA
[e-mail]
[phone]
Acknowledgment
To my original editing crew who took the time to read, critique, and encourage. Thank you, Amy, Chris, Christina, John, Judy, Lois, Mark, and Patti. Your investment in this project means the world to me.
Chapter 1
Isobel Kennilworth Aiken, Duchess of Warwick, sat expectantly in the chair, the midmorning sun streaming through the large window of the stately library at Wren House. The sunshine, so rare for London in April, cast a glow over the crowd gathered in the room. No one spoke. Isobel felt the dozens of eyes watching her black-clad figure for signs of distress. She gave them none. She presented the perfect picture of elegance and serenity, oval face and large gray eyes revealing nothing. Inwardly, however, she rejoiced. It would soon be over. They had buried Reginald in the family crypt near Warwick Park in Warwickshire, and now were back in Hanover Square at Wren House awaiting the reading of the will. A sigh of relief escaped Isobel’s lips. Seated to the left, Aunt Maude, otherwise known as Lady Whitcomb, patted her hand.
Reginald is really dead , thought Isobel, and soon she could have a new beginning. True, she had not been able to produce an heir and would be relegated to the dower house in Warwickshire, but knew she would always be welcome at Wren House. Her husband’s brother and heir, Lord Charles, had said as much. He sat to the right of her, fairly bristling with excitement. He is rejoicing almost as much as I am, thought Isobel. If Reginald had hung on another few months from the wasting disease he battled for nearly two years, Charles would have had to escape the wrath of the moneylenders by fleeing to the continent. Lord Charles, second son of the sixth Duke of Warwick, spent a great deal of time in rakish pursuits, as did all his peers, but he possessed a good heart. Charles did not, in the least, resemble his heartless brother. But enough about Reginald; he is dead. I may only be the Dowager Duchess of Warwick, but I am free. Free to begin a new life.
The solicitor, Mr. Pickens, cleared his throat, signaling the reading of the will would commence.
“The ninth of April in the year of our Lord, eighteen hundred and seventeen. I, Reginald Wilbur Percival Aiken, 7th Duke of Warwick, Marquess of Crewes, and Viscount of Fenwick, being of sound mind hereby bequeath…”
Pickens’ voice flowed over Isobel like a dream. He named servants and sums that were less than Isobel’s pin money, but to each servant the sum represented a boon. The list of servants seemed to go on forever with names she did not recognize. It did not concern her. Pickens droned on past second cousins and cousins with no surprises. Those Reginald had approved of were rewarded handsomely. Those of whom he had disapproved were made to feel the displeasure from beyond the grave, including his sister, Letitia. She had wed a loose screw and lived in regret. Letitia had not bothered to attend the reading.
“And to my wife—” here Pickens paused and Isobel sat up a little straighter “…to my wife,” repeated Pickens, seeming loathe to continue, “Adriana…”
A universal gasp filled the room.
Isobel looked hard at Mr. Pickens. “Surely, Mr. Pickens, one of your clerks has erred. My name is not Adriana,” Isobel’s voice crackled with ice, a talent she’d perfected in four years as marchioness and two years as duchess.
“If you’ll allow me to continue, miss,” Pickens said, his usual implacable features revealing extreme discomfort.
Isobel sat wide-eyed, staring at the poor solicitor. Miss? Miss! She was not miss. She was Your Grace, my lady, or even ma’am, but never miss. She said nothing, her stern gaze speaking louder than words.
Pickens’ bland face became more severe as he continued, “To my wife, Adriana Vasquez Aiken, I leave the bulk of my estate in trust for our son, Reginald Vasquez Aiken who, upon reaching majority, will assume all responsibilities as the Eighth Duke of Warwick, being my legitimate son and heir.”
Pickens halted, eyes scanning the assembled group. Isobel allowed the shocking news to sink in. No one spoke. Isobel could barely breathe. Even her garrulous Aunt Maude could not manage a mutter.
Lord Charles broke the tense silence, “What impertinence is this? Is this a joke?”
“I am afraid not, Lord Charles. I can assure you that it is true,” Pickens eyed Lord Charles, brows lowered. “His Grace married Senorita Adriana Vasquez in August of ’09 in Spain, near Talavera by a Catholic priest. They also wed again in 1810 in Derbyshire, after returning to England, so no one would question the legality of the marriage, I assume. There can be no doubt the marriage is legal.”
“And I suppose he has the temerity to assume I will stand as guardian to this little whelp,” Charles said, face clouding over.
“Not at all, Lord Charles. Pray, allow me to continue,” Pickens looked down at the will. “I appoint my wife, Adriana, the Duchess of Warwick, as sole guardian, with all the rights, privileges and responsibilities. I trust her like no other.”
Isobel looked up from the restless fingers entwined in her lap and stared at the solicitor. The solicitor’s normally placid brown eyes were stormy, his jaw clenched. He is almost as angry as I am, Isobel realized in surprise.
The solicitor took a breath, “To my brother, Lord Charles Aiken, to compensate for the inconvenience of losing his inheritance, I leave my unentailed estate in Derbyshire, Hidenwood. I am bequeathing him this property in hopes that he will leave his gambling and dissipated ways behind and take pride in the Aiken name.”
“Inconvenience? He dares to lecture me about my behavior after this?” Lord Charles’ face turned crimson.
Isobel watched the proceedings, dumfounded. Pickens continued unmercifully, his jaw rigid.
“And finally, to Isobel Kennilworth, who married me for my money and position, I leave the home I shared with my lawfully wedded wife and son at 65 Woburn Place on condition that she retains the current staff for at least one year. In addition, I leave her five hundred pounds per annum for life or until she remarries or, more accurately, until she marries. Since our marriage has been a sham in more ways than one, I feel no need to justify my behavior. However, as a gentleman, I must apologize for the distress this has caused her.”
“Gentleman? Humph!” exclaimed Lady Whitcomb. “No one calling himself a gentleman would commit such a heinous act. Bigamy. My poor, poor Isobel.”
Isobel’s breath came in ragged gasps, fighting to gain control. She would not weep or swoon in front of these people. Everyone stared at her, waiting for a reaction. Before the would-be widow could martial swirling thoughts, Pickens continued with Warwick’s final pronouncements.
“I know many of you are astounded by this revelation. It is a situation I should have remedied long ago, the blame for which I lay mostly at my father’s door. But what is done is done. I cannot change it from the grave. But I do hope you will afford my son, the Duke of Warwick, and my wife, the Dowager Duchess, all the respect and dignity due to their new station in life. That is