Page 1 of His Scottish Duchess

CHAPTER ONE

“Ibeg your pardon, miss?”

Catherine Lennox inhaled deeply, doing her best to remain a picture of grace, despite her disheveled appearance and exhausted frame.

“I apologize for my tardiness. I didnae—did not expect the journey to take so long. I’ve never been to London before, ye—you see. I would have been better prepared had I known it was going to be such a tedious journey.”

Catherine hoped that her speech struggles went unnoticed by the man standing before her, feeling nervous about embarrassing herself and her family before she had even gotten the chance to meet her husband-to-be.

“I am sorry that you had such an exhausting trip, miss, but I am afraid I still do not know who you are or your business at Rosehall Estate,” the man said, his expression apologetic.

“What do ye—you mean? I am Miss Catherine Lennox, the Baron Spranklin’s daughter. And I am the Duke’s bride-to-be. Did—did you not know I was arriving today?” Catherine asked, her heart sinking suddenly.

The man’s face paled, and he hurriedly bowed to her.

“My goodness—Your Grace—I mean, my deepest apologies, Miss Lennox. We were not expecting you to arrive at all. His Grace had expressed doubts on whether or not the Baron would be willing to part with his daughter and thus—do not fret. I am Mr. Oswald, the butler at Rosehall Estate,” he stated, anxiously glancing behind him.

Catherine had assumed as much, from the lack of reception upon arrival. Their assumptions were not far off, as her father had, in fact, been a tad reluctant to let her take on this duty. But just as he had always put his family first, she was intent on doing the same for their family.

Still, it was rather disconcerting to find no one waiting to welcome her, but she did not wish to dwell on it. After all, she had bigger concerns than this.

It took a notable amount of strength to keep herself from gripping her dress in an effort to force her tongue not to speak the way it had since her birth. Her gaze remained on the butler, unwavering and determined not to allow him to look down on her.

After all, she was to become the Duchess of Rosehall.

“I understand that you might have been preoccupied with other tasks, Mr. Oswald. It is no fault of yours that this has happened. Water under the bridge.” Catherine smiled brightly, not wanting to give the impression that she was harsh or difficult to deal with. “Now that I am here, might I?—”

“W-Wait, Miss Lennox,” the butler interrupted as she tried to step into the house. “This is not the right time. The Duke is… a tad preoccupied at the moment. Perhaps you could wait at the house of a relative? Only for a while, so that we can inform him of your arrival and prepare to receive you properly.”

Catherine stared at him, confused and slightly worried.

“I do not have any relatives here. Were you really told nothing about me? There is no place for me to go because my sole purpose for being here is to marry the Duke.”

As the minutes ticked by, the worry within her started to turn into panic. She had traveled all the way from Scotland on her own for this purpose. The thought of her mission being in jeopardy filled her with immense fear.

Throughout the entire carriage ride, she had imagined a large, warm reception, expecting to be eased into the new life she was meant to lead. She already had enough concerns over marrying a man she had never met, and the unnerving taste it left in her mouth had kept her up for several nights in a row.

“I do not have anywhere else?—”

A burst of giggles cut her off, and she lifted her eyes in the direction they had come from.

At the top of the staircase descended a man, flanked by two women who apparently couldn’t stop touching him. Their giggles seemed to echo through the house as they walked down, the man giving off waves of irrefutable charm with an air of danger.

His dark brown hair reminded Catherine of the glass of rum her father drank whenever he was consumed by his fears, and his blue eyes seemed to glow with mischief and confidence.

He was dressed strangely—at least to Catherine—in a robe that hung loosely over his shoulders and a pair of trousers that clung to his hips. His confidence told her that he was the owner of the house, and therefore her husband-to-be.

Again, Catherine found herself struggling to stay focused, unable to keep her eyes from wandering down his exposed torso and striking face. She was not used to seeing men bare in such a manner, and it was clear that this man was quite attractive. Likely more than any man she had ever come across.

One of the women placed her hand on his chest, and Catherine couldn’t help but follow the trail of her touch, her eyes tracing the ridges and curves of muscles that made him seem more godlike than a mere mortal.

When she had gotten hold of her bearings, she was soon overcome by fury.

This man was to become her husband in less than a day, and here he was, fooling around with not just one but two women!

How dare he!

She seethed silently, angry at the blatant display.

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