A Reluctant Bride for the Duke (Preview)

Chapter One

Gemma sighed, and took in the smell of pine wood and old paper. It was a scent that took her back to her childhood. Back when she had first discovered her love for writing and drawing.

“I just need that one over there, if you please,” Gemma said to Ashley as she pointed to a large ink well. “Right, thank you. I believe that will be all for now.” 

Ashley gave a curt nod and put her lady’s purchases on the counter at the front of the shop, before she went across the street to the printers. Gemma’s pale blue eyes could not help but follow Ashley. Every week, Gemma would have her lady’s maid deliver her writing to the news office.

Gemma tucked a loose strand of hair away before speaking further to Mrs. Baker. She bent down to see her reflection in a nearby mirror. Gemma was not as short as most ladies. If that was not enough to set her apart, her wavy blonde hair was almost as white as snow. 

“Miss Castwell, how are you today?” The shop owner, Mr. Baker said the moment he noticed Gemma.

“Fine, thank you, Mr. Baker. How are you? Did you hear about the accident just outside town?” Gemma inquired.

“I did, yes, poor child. “Mr. Baker said, putting his hand to his chest. 

“So tragic. You know, if only the child had been seated in front, she may not have broken her leg that severely,” Gemma said. The empathy in her tone and expression was plain to see.

“Now the leg will have to be amputated,” Mr. Baker replied with equal sorrow.

“Did you see Mrs. Cromwell with her latest?” Mrs. Baker asked Gemma.

“Surely, she has not moved on that quickly?” Gemma said aghast.

“She detests being alone,” Mrs. Baker stated.

“Well if they are both happy, then why can they not be left alone? Granted, the age difference does verge on unseemly. It is interesting, do you not agree, that if it had been a young girl with an older man then it would have been accepted? Now that it is the other way around, they are frowned upon?” Gemma asked. She knew Mrs. Baker was old-fashioned; however, she did seem to enjoy and endorse Gemma’s more modern way of thinking. 

“Good day, Mr. Baker, Mrs. Baker.” A deep voice spoke behind Gemma. The sound poured into her ears and made her think of a warm summer breeze. 

Gemma could not help her curiosity at glancing at who might own such a memorable voice. She could see that he had well-groomed, jet-black hair that had an attractive curl to it. He was taller than most men, and she had to look up to try to look at his face. A rare happening for Gemma. He had more of a farmer’s build than the gentlemen she was used to. He was well-dressed in black trousers with black boots, a white dress shirt with a modern upturned collar, and a brown suede jacket. 

What an interesting man. Gemma thought as she tried to get a better look at him.

“Good morning, Your Grace. I am doing well, you know, the knees are still a bit of a bother,” Mr. Baker replied.

Oh, Your Grace, is it? No, he would give me one look and reject me. Nobility must adhere to what is considered attractive. My tall form is far from the norm or acceptable. Gemma thought with slight disappointment. 

“I am terribly sorry to hear, Mr. Baker. You should rest more,” the man replied.

Still, he has a magnificent voice, Gemma thought.

“That is very kind, Your Grace. Now, how can I help you today?” Mr. Baker said fondly.

“I am searching for writing supplies. Charlotte and Colette will not forgive me if I return home empty-handed,” the man said with a pleasant chuckle. 

“Well, Your Grace, we shall not disappoint them then. How are Colette’s friends in the village now? The papers said something about poor rain this year,” Mr. Baker asked.

“Indeed it has been a hard year. Fortunately, there were a few storms before harvest time,” the man answered. “Charlotte is getting even more versed with her poetry. She writes the most beautiful thoughts onto paper,” the man went on. 

Gemma thought of her own home life. She would rise early every day to help her father on their estate. He had taught her how to take care of every aspect of the estate in his absence one day. She would find time to help her grandmother with the garden and make sure to play at least one chess game with her grandfather. 

To hear this man speaking of his family with such fondness was a very attractive trait to Gemma. Mrs. Baker must have noticed her interest as before Gemma could react, she was being introduced to the man.

“Your Grace, this is Miss Gemma Castwell. Gemma, may I introduce you to His Grace Lothar Howard, Duke of Exeter.” Mrs. Baker made the introduction and Gemma turned to face him. She was struck by his open, hazel eyes, and when he turned, she could admire how broad his shoulders really were. 

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Your Grace,” Gemma said with a graceful curtsy. 

“The pleasure truly is mine, Miss Castwell,” the duke replied, and for a moment, the glimmer in his eyes made her believe him. “My sisters would be envious of your collection, Miss Castwell.” 

Gemma looked at all the items she was about to purchase. She had several sheets of parchment, three different types of quills, two ink wells, and two brushes all neatly stacked on the counter nearby. 

“I find that I go through more and more each week, Your Grace,” Gemma replied. He had an easy manner that made speaking to him feel natural, as though they had known each other as old friends. 

“Are you a writer, Miss Castwell? That is, if you do not mind me asking, of course,” Lothar gently inquired. 

“I am of sorts, Your Grace. I do get published every so often,” Gemma replied with pride.

“Your Grace,” a valet called from the doorway of the shop. 

“Please excuse me, Miss Castwell, Mr. Baker, Mrs. Baker,” Lothar said before leaving with the valet. 

Gemma watched him leave and could not take her eyes away from him. He had a lovely personality and valued family as she did. Then there was the fact that as he was as physically odd as she was; it fascinated her. 

Easy there. Are you forgetting how the seasons in London went? Gemma’s mind tormented her. 

She had wanted to make her parents proud. The very thought of having a man plan out her every move and enslave her to chores and just have child after child, it made her stomach churn. Yet, when her mother had almost broken down into tears of worry, Gemma had conceded. 

She had dressed and prepared for hours. She had gone to all the right balls and events. Every move she made had been watched closely, and she had never faltered, not once. She did not consider herself unseemly in appearance, yet to find a man not intimidated by her towering stature was nearly impossible. No, two difficult and unkind seasons had left her with the decision to never seek marriage. 

The duke is just fascinating and would make a good friend. Gemma told herself. 

“Poor man,” Mrs. Baker said. Her words took Gemma away from her thoughts. “He had an elementary life, and then an uncle he has barely heard of leaves him nothing but a burden.”

“I beg your, pardon,” Gemma said, even as she disliked how interested she was. 

“He was not a duke to begin with. He led a modest life. Then his uncle passed and left him his estate. Now one would think that a blessing, but this place is falling apart. He spends every penny he makes, ensuring his workers get their wages,” Mrs. Baker said softly. 

“That is generous of him,” Gemma said as she looked to the door he had left through. She immediately felt sympathetic towards him, even though she was sure he could well take care of himself. 

“Lovely man. He has no idea how good of a man he is, unlike most of the other young men around here,” Mr. Baker chimed in. Mr. Baker was a thin, neat older gentleman who rarely joined in on his wife’s conversations. 

He must think highly of Lothar indeed! Gemma thought with awe. 

“Then there is that woman.” Mrs. Baker said the word woman as though it were a dirty word. Gemma did not like the twist in her stomach at the mention of a possible woman in Lothar’s life. 

What does it matter? You have just met the man! Gemma’s mind cautioned. She wanted to know but dared not ask the question.

“Miss Briggs. They have known each other since their schooling years. To each his own, I say. You see she does not seem to share the level of affection he shows her. The whole town thought they were a solid match. The years went by, and he had not asked her to marry him. Then there were rumors of her trying to wed her nephew-in-law just to get a hold of his fortune,” Mrs. Baker said in an even lower voice moments before Lothar re-entered the shop. 

“Thank you so much for your patience, Mr. Baker.” Lothar’s voice echoed through the shop.

“Not at all, dear boy,” Mr. Baker said as he handed Lothar his carefully wrapped parcels. Lothar easily took the parcels that Mr. Baker struggled to balance. Gemma could not help but look at his hands. They looked capable of anything, even igniting her imagination. 

The price of being a writer. Your imagination is almost always in full swing, Gemma thought with a smile. That is all that it is, my overactive imagination.

Yet, Gemma watched Lothar’s movements until she could not see him as he left. She knew that he had made a lasting impression on her. She would not soon forget meeting him and would, from that moment on, hope to repeat the encounter. 

“Will that be all today?” Mrs. Baker said as she started to wrap Gemma’s purchases. 

“Yes, thank you,” Gemma replied.

Ashley returned looking triumphant. “How did it go?” Gemma asked her. 

“Very well, My Lady,” Ashley replied with a smile. She had seemed overjoyed when Gemma had asked her to help deliver her writing for her. It had now become a weekly arrangement when they came to town. Their carriage had stopped nearby. The door swung open as Gemma and Ashley approached, and Gemma’s parcels were fetched from the shop. 

“Please put those with the green ribbons inside here,” Gemma instructed.

Gemma found that she felt hungry and could not wait to get home in time for lunch; she was glad that the carriage took only two hours to get them back home. Gemma looked at the parcels she had instructed to be put inside the carriage. Inside were delicate pastries and cakes that she first offered to Ashley. 

“Oh no, my lady, you must choose first,” Ashley said.

“I insist there is more than enough here,” Gemma said as she raised her chin in exaggerated defiance. Ashley took one and took a grateful bite. “Are they good?” 

“Yes, thank you, My Lady,” Ashley said, covering her mouth with her hand.

“Do you know anything about the Duke of Exeter?” Gemma heard herself ask.

“Not much, My Lady. I believe he grew up here like I did. Perhaps other locals would know more,” Ashley replied. 

Gemma nodded and went back to her selection of eats. The rest of the journey was spent in pleasant conversation, and soon Gemma looked out the carriage window to see the large iron gate, with their coat of arms on it, open to welcome them home.

Lunch was family time. Gemma sat next to her parents, and her grandparents sat seated opposite. This was a time when they would catch up on each other’s day.

“How did town go today?” her father, Andrew Castwell, asked.

“Very well, thank you, father,” Gemma replied. 

“You should be careful, child. There are thieves at every corner,” Gemma’s grandmother added.

“Now mother, no need to scare Gemma. I am sure she is careful,” her mother, Margaret, said. 

“I am careful, grandmama,” Gemma replied gently. She loved the older woman as much as she did her mother. Her grandmother had always shown Gemma that she adored her granddaughter in equal measure. 

“I met a rather nice gentleman at the stationers,” Gemma announced and closed her eyes tightly. She instantly regretted making mention of meeting Lothar today. 

Why did I do that? Now they will want to know each detail. I am not even interested in being with someone. Gemma thought knowing the floodgates would open and questions would come at her from all her family at the same time. 

But her family all turned to her and simply stared at her in surprise.

 

Chapter Two

Lothar

 

What an intriguing lady, Lothar thought as he got into his carriage. He had a few more places he would have liked to have seen that day. Unfortunately, his mother had other plans. 

“A matchmaker?” He asked his valet.

“Yes, Your Grace. I was asked to bring you home immediately,” the valet replied.

“Well, then it would be better for the both of us if we were to leave as quickly as possible,” Lothar said with a grin as he wrestled his frame into the carriage. “Why can they not make these things bigger?” He mumbled when he bumped his head against the roof of the carriage. Lothar looked at the roof as if it had come down and struck him while he put his hand to his throbbing head. The carriage jolted about while the horses settled down from the excitement. They loved to run. The moment the valet took hold of the reins, they knew they would be free to run soon. 

Once they took off, they were on their way at a swift pace. The trees just outside town went past the carriage window in a blur. Dust from the country road entered the carriage and made Lothar cough. 

They were soon home, and Lothar felt a mix of relief and trepidation as he walked into the estate, hoping to first find a whiskey before his mother found him. 

“Your Grace?” A footman asked.

“Yes?” Lothar replied though he did consider pretending not to have heard him.

“Your Grace, your presence is requested in the library the moment you are available,” the footman said, with a nod.

“Thank you,” he replied, and the footman left.

Probably to go tell mother that I have been found. I best go see her, Lothar thought as he sighed and went in the direction of the library. When Lothar arrived in the library to speak to his mother, she was having tea with another lady.

“There you are, son,” Violet said as she embraced him, and then stood back to introduce him. “Lothar, this is Mrs. Gardner. She is the finest matchmaker England has to offer. Mrs. Gardner, this is my son Lothar.” 

“Your Grace, truly a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Mrs. Gardner said with a curtsy.

“Likewise, Mrs. Gardner,” Lothar replied, even if he was not yet sure it was.

“Do sit down.” Violet ordered rather than offered. Lothar obeyed and took a seat next to his mother. “Now Lothar, you know I have been very patient with this entire Henny situation. We need to find you a proper wife whose intentions are more apparent,” Violet added. 

“We have a lovely selection of ladies that would suit a man of Lothar’s pedigree, very well, I might add,” Mrs. Gardner said with an encouraging smile. “There is Miss Miller, who comes from industry. However, her father is a Baron who does have a strong fortune. There is also Miss Clarence, who has many suitors, as she is as beautiful as she is well-off.” 

“Those ladies both sound like good prospects. What do you think?” Violet asked, turning to her son. Lothar had no idea how to respond. He had always felt uncomfortable referring to getting married as more of a business arrangement than one made by choice or love. 

“They sound lovely,” he replied, as he tried to at the very least not seem rude or as uninterested as he was. There was only one woman he loved and would always love. She, on the other hand, had shown less enthusiasm for his affections. 

“There is one more lady that I feel obligated to inform you of. She is more of an honorable mention,” Mrs. Gardner said.

“How so?” Violet asked.

“Her father is the last born of a Baron, so he does not have the title. He has, though, done something of himself in his own right. I understand he would like his family to have more of a title as they do, as I have said, have a good fortune. Their daughter has somewhat of an unconventional beauty. Word has it that she does not feel the need to get married. Allow me to put it this way. The Castwells are still aristocracies, and they have enough of a fortune to more than make it a good union,” Mrs. Gardner replied.

“That would lift this old place a bit. Would you not agree?” Violet asked Lothar, who seemed not to have heard her.

“Did you say Castwell?” Lothar asked.

“Yes, Your Grace.” Miss Gardner.

“Do you know the Castwells?” Violet asked Lothar.

“I met Miss Castwell this morning. Just before we left to come home,” Lothar replied and found that he was smiling. 

“Would you like to approach her father? Ask if you may enter into a courtship with her?” Violet asked. 

“I think that I might, yes,” Lothar replied. One of the kitchen staff knocked on the door. Lothar stood up as he knew there must be a letter for him. The kitchen staff would receive a letter from a servant of the Whitcomb household. They would deliver it to the staff at the Howard estate and then be delivered to Lothar. He would respond to Henny the same way, in reverse. 

“A letter has arrived, Your Grace,” the servant said and waited for Lothar to take the letter from the silver tray he held before going back to his daily tasks. 

“If it is from Henny, may I implore you to not respond to her?” Violet asked.

“Mother, you know her husband has passed. She calls if she needs help.” Lothar defended her as usual. 

“I agree she needs help. However, it is not the kind you think it is,” Violet said. Her anger started to show in her voice. 

“Mother! That is most unkind,” Lothar said with surprise.

“Oh Lothar, it is unkind for a woman to play with your emotions. She married someone else, someone with money, does that not tell you what type of person she is?” Violet said. The pain in her eyes upsetting him.

“I will write back or go there if it cannot wait,” Lothar said. “Good day, Mother, Mrs. Gardner.” Lothar left before there was more of an argument. 

He knew he should not have been impatient with his mother. She was right, of course, and he knew she meant well. I cannot help with what my heart wants, Lothar thought as he marched to his study. The small room housed a wooden desk, a small bookshelf, and a drink cart. Lothar went to the cart to pour a double drink and swallowed it in one gulp. He broke the seal on the letter he still held and opened the letter. 

 

Dear Lothar

I hope this letter finds you well. It has been so long since I have seen you and request your presence at lunch next week, the 5th.

Henny

Lothar read the note again and again, it would be the day after a garden party he was to attend. He read it multiple times, hoping he could find more meaning to the few choice words Henny had written to him.

Once, just once, could she not have said yours at the end of her letter? Could she not at least speak of any feelings at all that she might have for me? Lothar thought as his chest started to hurt. Though she did marry another man, it was her duty to do so, and I had not dared to ask her hand. I only have myself to blame. 

A knock at the door dismissed his thoughts. “Come in,” Lothar yelled towards the door. “Mother,” Lothar said and stood up when his mother came into his study. “Allow me,” he added, pulling out a chair for her. 

“Lothar, I expect you to give the matchmaker a fair chance. I understand how you feel about Henny, my dear boy, but you know you are worth a woman who will have at least as much loyalty as you do. I expect to see Miss Castwell here for tea in the next two weeks. Do we have an understanding?” Violet said in a loving yet firm manner that let him know what was expected of him.

“I should give other ladies a chance. If they also reject me, it will be clear that I am unsuited for marriage,” Lothar answered.

“Nonsense. You may be my son, yet I can see both your faults, which are few, and your plenty of merits. You are a fine young man, and it baffles me why any woman would not see that.” Violet said more gently.

“You are my mother. You must say things like that,” Lothar replied with a smile. 

“Granted, I am biased. Though you truly are a good man, Lothar. You took this broken place and made something of it. You have made sure we had a roof over our heads and that all the workers got their wages to feed their families.” Violet said as she reached over the desk to take his hands in hers. 

“It was simply what needed to be done,” Lothar said, shaking his head.

“Yes, it needed doing. Your uncle, my brother, was less inclined to that way of thinking. It would have been easy for you to do the same. You took the more difficult path, and that makes you a better man. That is one of the many reasons I want you to try to find someone who is as good as you are,” Violet said with a smile, though her eyes were worried. 

“I did say that I would give this a fair chance,” Lothar replied.

“And you will go to Miss Castwell’s father and seek permission?” Violet said with suspicion.

“Yes, as I have stated, I will do as you as ask,” Lothar said. 

“Thank you. Now, you said that you met Miss Castwell this morning. What was she like?” Violet asked. 

Lothar was surprised by the sudden change of topic and was unsure how to describe Miss Castwell. He thought for a moment and found himself smiling. 

“Why do you ask?” Lothar said to give himself a few moments more to think. 

“Mrs. Gardner made her sound unseemly. Now, as you know, I do not put a lot of stock in appearance. I am curious what you thought of her,” Violet said with a smile. Lothar knew she was more than just curious. His mother had been asking him to find a wife for the longest time. He had thought at first that she had been trying to get him and Henny together. After the last five years, he was convinced that she would prefer any woman who was not Henny Briggs. 

“She has a lovely manner. Her voice is sweet but not dull. She has the most beautiful eyes, and I feel as though I could give her an embrace without snapping her in half,” Lothar said, and wondered if he had said too much.

“She has made quite an impression on you,” Violet said. 

Lothar smiled and did not speak further. He was the type of person who could became quiet and contemplative. 

“Right, I know when I have gotten as much from you on the subject as I will get for now,” Violet said as she stood up. Lothar did the same. The moment his mother left, he looked for writing supplies to send a letter back to Henny. 

 

Dearest Henny

I have missed you so since we last met, and I hope you are well. I would be thrilled to join you for tea tomorrow. Furthermore, I shall be counting the hours.

Lothar

 

Lothar frowned down at the letter he had just penned. He had ended their correspondence with yours Lothar since their first letter to one another. This was the first one that he had ended in his name, as she had. 

He still felt the same way about her as he had all those years. Perhaps her lack of affection had finally become too much to bear. Lothar decided to send the letter as it was. He went to the kitchen to find the same man who had given him Henny’s letter. He handed the man the letter and knew he would be off to her estate to deliver it to a staff member at the Whitcomb estate. 

He would usually feel elated that he was going to see Henny soon. It would be the only thing he could think of. It would consume his every thought. Now, as he looked out the study window that looked out onto the lands, he found his thoughts going to Miss Castwell. He knew he could make his estate a more worthy place for her, the place a wonderful lady like her deserved.

He could remember her in vivid detail, which was rare. Lothar did not easily remember a face or a name, and he had committed Gemma to his memory. 

He wondered when he could go see her father and make arrangements to start their courtship. 

I could learn to love her if she would do the same, though I may not be able to love her the way I loved Henny. Furthermore, I will give her everything I have and protect her. Likewise, I do like the idea of becoming a father. Lothar was deep in thought for a while before he realized he had not given Henny so much as another thought. 

He smiled, thinking how the tea with Henny might be interesting. Would she care that I am planning to court another? 

Surely, that would show me if there is even a chance that I might ever be with her. 

“Excuse me, Your Grace.” A footman stood at the door.

“Please come in,” Lothar said.

“The matchmaker has sent word that you are expected for tea at the Castwell residence next month, Your Grace,” the footman announced.

“When?” Lothar asked.

“On the 5th at six PM, Your Grace,” The footman replied. “Next month, Your Grace.”

Lothar thanked him, and the footman left. 

I cannot make a poor impression on the Castwells. Henny will have to understand that our tea will be a short one. Lothar decided to go for a ride on one of the horses. It would help clear his head. 

Lothar made his way from the main house to the stables that lay about a ten- or fifteen-minute walk away. His long legs got him there in six minutes. The groomsman immediately saddled a horse for him upon his arrival. These were no average type of horse. They stood six feet tall with a strong, muscular build. They had been bred to plough fields. Their mighty bodies were able to pull massive weights and travel long distances quickly.

Lothar had fallen in love with the breed a few years ago. He had seen them when a passing gentleman had stopped in town. Lothar had inquired about the horses, and the gentleman had shown him to the breeders. Though they were often used plow the land, Lothar liked them for riding since he felt they could better carry his large frame. 

Lothar went to the horse that was now ready to ride and scratched behind the horse’s ears down its neck, before he mounted and rode away. 

Lothar felt more at ease the moment the horse started to gallop away. He was not planning on going anywhere specific and instead let the horse run free. He had the reins just in case there was an obstacle the horse could not see. 

It felt as though he had only been out a short while, yet when Lothar looked at the sky, he could see that the blue sky was starting to turn orange and pink. The sun started to make its journey to lay between the rolling hills. Lothar felt more prepared for what tomorrow could bring. He still felt his nerves fray at the thought of having to meet Mr. Castwell. More than anything, Lothar realized, he wanted a chance with Gemma.