His Second-Chance Duchess, Book 2 in The Darling Duchesses Series
April 6, 2026 (Edwards and Williams)
Sweet-natured Georgina, Dowager Duchess of Tyneham, was blessed to fall in love twice, once with an impoverished clergyman who chose career over her and once to her late husband, the duke. Better to hide her broken heart behind good works and a well placed lace-edged handkerchief. That is, until the new duke appoints a vicar to the village church, and Georgie comes face to face with her former love.
Raised in a London orphanage and risen to his current position by the kindness of patrons, Hugh Caddington knew long ago he had little to offer the pretty Georgie. Now she's a duchess, with everything she might want at her fingertips. What's a poor country vicar to do except show her every kindness and courtesy even as their former love rekindles?
As a thief plagues the little village, loyalties are tested, but nothing stands in the way of the duke and his matchmaking servants. Can Hugh turn Georgie's mourning into dancing, at their own wedding?
Buy now
Directly from Regina
Amazon (affiliate link)
Barnes and Noble
Apple Books
Kobo
Bookshop.org, benefitting local bookstores
Books-A-Million
Universal link
Reviews
"His Second-Chance Duchess is everything I love about Regina Scott’s storytelling… warm, witty, and full of heart, with a touch of mystery woven through the romance." -- Hott Book Reviews
"The second entry in Regina Scott's Darling Duchesses series is as delightful as the first. Once again, she gives us not one but two romances, a mystery, and a chance to reconnect with the precocious pug Anastasia. As if that weren't enough, there's a second pug to add to the adventure. For a lighthearted read from the author who brings us warm and witty romances, you won't want to miss His Second-Chance Duchess. -- Amanda Harte
"I recommend this series and book for an entertaining read." -- Reader Luci, used with permission
"Loved, loved, loved this story." -- Reader J. Hanson, used with permission
Excerpt
Chapter One
Tyneham, Dorset, England
How much longer could she keep hiding?
Georgina, Dowager Duchess of Tyneham, peered out from around the corner of the haberdashery at the limestone walls of St. Mary's. The little chapel sat silently in the spring sunlight as if watching over the cottages and shops of the village like a hen its chicks. Next to it, the vicarage showed no signs of occupation, but it couldn't be empty.
He would be there.
A shiver went through her. She'd managed to avoid the last month since his arrival in the village, even through the Easter celebrations. When she wished to assist in some charitable endeavor, she sent her donations by footman. When the duke, who was currently in residence at Tyneham Manor, invited the vicar to dine, she pleaded a headache. When she attended services on Sunday, she kept her head down and eyes averted.
Even if she sometimes sighed aloud hearing that warm voice read the sermon.
The door of the vicarage opened now. Why did her breath still hitch when she caught sight of that curly blond hair? She never had emboldened herself to run her fingers through it when they had been courting. He slipped a low-crowned hat over it now as he descended the stairs, then glanced in either direction as if making sure all the gravestones were accounted for. As always, his navy coat looked freshly pressed, his cravat was neatly tied, and his black boots shone with polish. She could imagine those bright blue eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled a welcome.
He glanced toward the shops along the east side of the village green, and she jerked back, pressing the shoulders of her black satin pelisse against the whitewashed stones of the building. Some members of the Organizing Committee for the Betterment of Children in the Tyneham Environs lived in the village, so it had made sense to hold the next meeting at the vicarage. She'd been told the vicar would not be present, but she'd come early without a chaperone to make sure. She hadn't seen him leave until now, but she hadn't seen anyone else enter either.
She closed her eyes, fingers clutching the ribbons of her reticule closer. Her heart thudded against her ribs, but she didn't think she heard footsteps coming in her direction. Instead, a bell tinkled. She wasn't sure what it was until a voice spoke up.
"Your Grace? Is something the matter?"
She opened her eyes to find that Mr. Pierce, the haberdasher, had come out of his shop and stood regarding her, greying head cocked. Had he noticed her loitering? Oh, what must he think of her?
She put on her best, sunniest smile. "I'm perfectly fine, sir. Thank you so much for your concern."
Still he regarded her, shrewd brown eyes narrowed. "Was there something you needed?"
Peace, quiet, time to reflect.
Ah, not that. Reflection only brought the tears flooding back.
"No, thank you," she said. "I was woolgathering, I fear. I have a meeting at the vicarage."
His face cleared. "Of course. I'm sure I speak for everyone in the village when I say we appreciate your efforts to help the children."
Georgie's smile felt more genuine. "And I'm happy to be of assistance. How is your daughter? I trust the tincture we sent over was helpful for her catarrh?"
"Very helpful," he assured her. "She sniffs and coughs much less now." He glanced back at his shop. "I have lovely new ribbons in, some black, as you prefer. Perhaps you'd care to take a look?"
She was sufficiently supplied with black ribbons. Black gowns, black shawls, and black bonnets too. At some point, she would consider going to the grey or lavender of half mourning, but not yet.
"Perhaps another time," she said. "The other members of the committee will be expecting me. Thank you again for your concern."
He bowed. "Your Grace."
As soon as he stepped into his shop, she drew in a breath and turned for the vicarage.
It was almost a disappointment to find the way empty. Someone had drawn a gig up in front of the smithy, and two women were crossing the green in the direction of the shops. But no one loitered near the vicarage. Time for her to go.
Glancing left and right, she scurried around the green, across the lane, through the gate, and up the stairs to the vicarage door. Just to be safe, she tapped at the panel.
No one answered.
So, Georgie pushed it open. She'd visited the vicarage many times since she'd first come as a bride to Tyneham Manor, but she hadn't been inside after Hugh Caddington had been appointed vicar following the retirement of the previous minister. The same etchings of cathedrals around the land held pride of place along the pale blue walls that ran from the entry hall and down to the kitchen, as if attempting to inspire the single-story church to grow into something more. The east side of the house held the vicar's study and bedchamber, so she turned to the west, which held the sitting room, dining room, and kitchen.
"Mrs. Hallet?" she called. Shouldn't the vicarage housekeeper be near?
No response.
Odd. Surely the others had arrived while she'd been talking with Mr. Pierce. She wandered through the sitting room, a cozy space holding sofa and chairs in a semicircle around the limestone hearth with a low table in the middle. The door to the dining room stood open, and no one sat at the walnut table either. Beyond it, the door to the kitchen was closed. Had they decided to meet at the round breakfast table it held?
"Mrs. Hallet?" she tried again, skirting the dining table and pushing open the kitchen door. He must have had cheese with his breakfast, for she could still catch the scent of the sharp cheddar for which the area was famous. At the table in the center, a pot of tea, a plate of scones, and a bowl of strawberry preserves waited. There was certainly enough for the entire committee. But where were they?
Footsteps announced the approach of another a moment before a hand settled on her shoulder. "So, you're my thief, are you?"
Georgie acted without thinking. As her father, the colonel, had taught her, she rammed her elbow into the fellow's gut and stomped on his instep hard enough that she felt the reverberation up her leg.
With an oomph, he released her, and she dashed toward the door to the outside, heart once more colliding with her chest.
"Georgie! Your Grace! Wait!"
That voice. She should have recognized it the moment he spoke. Feeling as if all the blood had drained from her body, she slowly turned and faced Hugh Caddington, her vicar and the man she had once loved.
Hugh managed to stand upright, like a gentleman, though she'd taken the wind from him and his foot protested. With a black satin pelisse swathing her curves and a black velvet bonnet covering her golden hair, it was small wonder he hadn't recognized her from behind. But he'd been so intent on catching the person who'd been pilfering from the vicarage that he'd let his zeal go to his head.
"Forgive me," he said with a bow. "I didn't know it was you."
She was white as the caps on the Channel waves. "I certainly hope you don't greet your other guests that way."
At least there was a little fire in her soft voice now. Since he'd arrived in the village, she'd gone out of her way to avoid him, and the few times she'd spoken it had been stilted and stilled, quite unlike the sweet young woman he'd once courted. That Georgina had been excited about the world. Everything she had seen had brought her joy, and her joy had magnified his.
According to rumors in the village, it had been the premature death of her husband, the fifth duke, that had laid her so low. The black gowns she favored proclaimed her still in mourning, though more than a year had passed. He understood. He still mourned the death of their courtship, and that had ended five years ago now.
"I don't generally treat anyone that way," he said, trying for a smile. "But someone has been stealing from the vicarage, and I had hoped I might present that person with an empty building to try again."
Her sky blue eyes widened, and she took a step closer. "A thief? Here?"
He'd been as surprised as she was. The villagers were generally a prosperous lot, thanks largely to the patronage of the Duke of Tyneham and his family. Unlike when Hugh had lived in London, he'd spotted no beggars in the lanes, no itinerants in the hedgerows, and no orphans needing a loving home.
"It started with a blanket," he admitted, careful not to approach her lest he disturb this sudden truce. "Then a loaf of bread. Most recently, my greatcoat disappeared."
"How very odd!" She came around the table as if intrigued. The color was coming back in her cheeks, and her movement betrayed a flash of pink, which must line the pelisse. "And you've noticed no muddy footprints leading out? Heard no voice whispering in the night?"
Hugh smiled despite himself. "And seen no ominous shape hiding in the graveyard."
She looked disappointed. "Well, that is a shame." She glanced past him toward the door to the dining room. "Do you expect the others shortly?"
"Others?" Hugh asked, smile fading.
"The other members of the Organizing Committee for the Betterment of Children in the Tyneham Environs," she explained patiently, as if he had forgotten. "Sophia, the current Duchess of Tyneham; Mrs. Pritchard, the wife of our good wet grocer; Mrs. Fable, the widowed sister of our haberdasher; and myself. I was told we were to meet here at eleven this morning."
"I'm afraid no one informed me," Hugh told her. "But by all means, wait in the sitting room for them. I expect Mrs. Hallet back from the grocer shortly." He stepped farther aside to give her access to the door.
She scuttled around him like a mouse avoiding a cat, but after the reception he'd given her, he couldn't blame her. He should have known a lady in a satin pelisse would hardly steal from the vicarage. Then again, when a mind was unwell, who knew what it might rationalize? Hugh had certainly heard stories of the previous duke, and Tyneham had had its share of misfortune. In the last five years, they'd lost three dukes, including Georgie's husband, leaving the current duke, his patron, with the duty to support the three duchesses: Claudia, Georgie, and Sophia.
Hugh followed her back through the dining room and into the sitting room now, but he made sure to take the seat as far away as possible from her place on the sofa that flanked the hearth. Of course, that only gave him a clearer view of her.
He had already determined that she had changed little since they'd become acquainted in London. She had been making her debut later than generally expected, at the request of her father, Colonel Bancroft. But even undertaking the many activities expected of a young lady entering Society had not stopped her from spending some time each week at the Bateman Home for Boys, a private orphanage near Covent Garden.
The smiles she bestowed on the two other widows who called Tyneham Manor home were as warm as those she'd given the orphaned children. The laughter he heard when she wasn't aware of his presence never failed to lift his spirits. And that face and form were still as lovely as a spring morning.
She shifted on the worn sofa as if aware of his study.
"Forgive me," Hugh said. "We haven't had time for much private conversation since I arrived, yet I find myself wondering what topic would please you."
She dropped her gaze to her hands, which were fiddling with the ribbons of her bag. "You needn't feel you must entertain me. I'm sure you have things calling for your attention."
Nothing more important than discovering why she'd taken such a dislike of him. Her father had made it plain that Hugh was in every way unsuitable to continue his courtship years ago, but Georgie had known where he came from and never given him any indication that she disdained his illegitimate birth, until the end.
"You are a member of my congregation," he said. "I would not wish to stand on poor terms with anyone, yet I seem to have offended you."
Now she tugged at the fingers of one glove as if the black leather had grown too tight. "I am not offended, sir. I was merely surprised you accepted this position. I had thought you firmly fixed in London."
Hugh grimaced. "My work in London was not what I had hoped. I was one of two deacons at Saint Martin-in-the-Fields, and the junior one at that. I didn't mind tending to the aging members of the parish or taking care of the church itself, but I had thought to make more of an impact with the children. I was told it was doubtful I'd ever advance without the proper patronage. So, when His Grace approached me, I accepted."
There. He could not state the matter more plainly. They didn't need to recall her father's arguments against their match, claiming Hugh, as an orphan of no family, was beneath her. She didn't need to know the hours he'd prayed about the position, struggling over whether he could treat her with the proper attitude of servant rather than equal, friend instead of suitor.
She lifted her gaze to his then, and he knew he'd have more prayers to say this evening.
"Then I hope this position is more to your liking," she said. "I have found living in Dorset to be very congenial, and everyone in the village is so helpful! I cannot understand who might have taken your things. Someone must be in terrible need to resort to theft."
"You can think of no one in such a situation?" he pressed. "I only want to help."
She dimpled. "Of course you do. You were always the first to step in when others needed help. It's one of the reasons you were called to the church."
The main reason, the other being he had had no funds of his own to contribute to worthy causes. "Well, if you hear of anyone, please let me know. Mr. Wellman, our Supervisor of the Poor, assures me that he has had no call to distribute the funds from the poor box in Tyneham for quite some time."
"I imagine not," she said. "Tyneham generally cares for our own. At the moment, the greatest need in the village is a school. So many of the children grow up with no hope beyond farm labor. Being a farmer is a noble calling too! But not everyone is so called, and I'm sure it would be nice to have choices. Besides, how can one read God's word if one cannot read?"
"Precisely!" Hugh beamed at her. "I can only commend your intentions, Your Grace, and promise to do everything I can to help."
"And I promise to do all I can to help you uncover this person who must steal to survive. I'll speak with the staff at the manor. Perhaps one of them knows of someone."
Every moment in her company only reinforced what he'd gleaned by watching her. She was still the sweet-natured, kind woman he'd originally loved. Yet, if he'd had nothing to offer her then, he had little more now. Even a vicar with a living could not compare with the wealth, standing, and privilege of a duchess.
But renewing these feelings for Georgie would make his position here even more challenging than he'd feared.
Buy Now
Directly from Regina
Amazon (affiliate link)
Barnes and Noble
Apple Books
Kobo
Bookshop.org, benefitting local bookstores
Books-A-Million
Universal link
Extras
Remember the other books in The Darling Duchesses series:
