Duked: Duke One, Duke Society Series

by Robinson, Gina

  Ren was a hugely successful and highly awarded architect. Much more so than I'd imagined. Maybe if I'd followed those things, I wouldn't have been so surprised. I blamed Ren. He was surprisingly modest about it all. But then, when had he really had a chance to brag? Conversation about architecture and his career hadn't been top priority. His personal social media accounts, however, were scant. A very private view of Ren emerged. I wondered, not for the first time, if he was trying to outrun his past.

  The online picture of Ren the architect was impressive. He was a partner in his firm, a commercial company with many topnotch architects in many specialties. Ren's particular specialty was commercial modern sustainable architecture. The pictures of the projects in his portfolio were breathtaking. Beautiful works of art. Although I was his wife, it was hard to claim I viewed his work with a biased eye. I was seeing it all for the first time. Even with my rudimentary knowledge and untrained eye, it was obvious Ren was a true visionary and artist. Looking at his work was a little like peering into his psyche. He liked clean lines, glass, and mirrors.

  Even so, his projects were remarkably varied and unique. Each client would naturally have opinions, objectives, and design constraints that influenced the final building. The building site provided further limitations on what could be done creatively. But Ren's style, his architectural voice, was like a signature on everything he touched. There was a dark whimsy in the elegance of his designs and the way he chose to accessorize his buildings.

  As I was caught up and intrigued by his portfolio, I began to recognize details. I was stunned as I realized Ren was re-creating bits and pieces of Manly Manor in almost every project. A Gothic-esque bit here in the detailing of a window. A gargoyle statue at the entrance to one of his brilliantly modern office buildings. Once I noticed the first similarity, I couldn't un-see them. I went back over every building, looking them up, doing image searches to find more details. And yes, every project of his that I could find had something, some detail, large or small, that was clearly drawn from the castle.

  Without realizing it, I was smiling. I felt a little lighter. Manly was right. Ren loves this place. I can win him back to it.

  It was a stunning revelation. I pushed aside the worry that Ren was merely exorcising demons, trying to get Manly Manor out of his psyche. His projects were too gorgeous and meticulously designed, the details from the castle too intricately interwoven. He wanted the castle to be remembered. He wanted it to be part of who he was.

  The firm's website bragged about the awards their designs had won. The overwhelming majority were Ren's.

  Good news and bad news for me. Ren hadn't lost his love for the castle. He was still obsessed with it. But how would I ever pull him away from this career he apparently loved and excelled at? Would he ever be happy living here?

  I paused, letting my imagination run. Manly may not have liked the idea of sustainable housing on the far edge of the estate property, but my breath caught at the idea of Ren's beautiful designs scaled down for residential use. Of people living happy, fulfilled lives in them. Of preserving the village as well as the estate. Of establishing an architectural mark on the village from the here and now, this century. Future people could look at them and point to a specific period in history—ours—and see the designs of our era. Why should everything here be thatched cottages and old Georgian, Elizabethan, or Victorian designs?

  I realized with a start that I was bonding with Ren and coming around to his way of thinking, and he wasn't even here. His work spoke for him, maybe even more powerfully than he did in person. With great reluctance, I set aside any further search of his work.

  Had Manly and Ren really been so estranged that Manly hadn't recommended Ren for the job, even though he was one of the most talented architects in the country? Or had he simply known Ren would refuse? And why had my mother never used Ren's firm?

  Questions for another day. I still had to read through Manly's journal and make a copy of it for my ghost-hunting team. I opened the yellowed pages of the journal gingerly, smiling through sudden tears at the sight of Manly's handwriting. Afraid the journal would disappear on me, I took pictures of each page as I carefully leafed through it. Manly's writing was strong and vigorous at the beginning. Gradually, it became an old man's writing. It was clear he'd written later entries with arthritic hands. Whether Manly gave up recording, or the castle had quieted, in recent years, there had been no sightings. Bad for my business.

  Come on, ghosts! Throw me a bone. Give me a sighting. Scare me.

  I read through the entries, taking notes for my own information with a chill up my back. I was going to have to sell this place to the public if I was going to make a go of the business. The paranormal experts would make their own notes and draw their own conclusions. One thing stood out to me very quickly—this diary was very different from the one that had been left in my room. All of the entries in this one were clearly Manly's. The other had only been added to by Manly. Someone several generations before him had started it.

  And some of the entries in this diary were different from the original one I'd read. I was sure of it. I'd been tired when I read the first diary, but I was certain I remembered correctly. This one had been edited. The mention of Manly's second wife seeing the white lady was missing. I wasn't likely to forget that.

  Secondly, the white lady's room wasn't as haunted as Ren had claimed. The last sightings were ten years ago and very vague. Manly's notations about them were brief, and reported secondhand sightings by Ren, Will, and Zoe. But none that Manly personally witnessed.

  And then the room had quieted, along with everything else.

  I frowned. Manly's skepticism was clear in his brief notations. The young people were obsessed with the white lady and spent night after night looking for her. But Manly claimed to have seen her only a few times in his hundred years. He noted that it was creepy enough that he didn't want to repeat the experience and run into her again. The young people's reaction to her confused him. She wasn't a presence to mess with, in his opinion.

  Were these passages the ones Ren had offered to show me to prove his point? Did he think I'd be fooled?

  During his life, Manly had seen many apparitions and felt many of the sensations that guests and other dukes and family members had mentioned and recorded over the years. Seen and heard doors close by themselves. Felt the presence of someone when no one was around. He'd seen the knight in the lake a dozen times or more. Manly speculated that was because he loved the lake and took regular walks there in the evening and early morning, the times the knight was most known to appear.

  My skin prickled and my heart raced when I finally closed the diary and uploaded my pictures of it to the cloud for my ghost-hunting team. I frowned as I thought hard about Ren's reaction to the book I'd found on my dresser. He'd been taken by surprise. He hadn't recognized it. Not at first, anyway. He'd expected it to be Manly's. Ren was smooth. On the pretense of comforting me, he'd taken it away. Either he hadn't wanted me to have it, or he wanted it—why?

  Too many mysteries.

  Chapter 16

  Tuesday

  My designer was a genius. I emerged from her shop with a week's worth of gorgeous, hot black outfits, including a stunning dress for Manly's funeral that would be delivered to the castle on Thursday. I wore one of the outfits out—a sleek black blouse, bespoke black jeans, and super-chic heels, all fully accessorized. I had two more that would be delivered to my hotel. The rest, along with another week's worth of gray and plum outfits, would be delivered to the castle with my funeral dress. Hmmm…"funeral dress" had such a different shade of emotion attached than "wedding dress." But Manly's funeral would be a celebration.

  I was dogged by photographers both going in and coming out of the shop. I was trailed by them all the way to the posh restaurant where I met my London friends. The restaurant very efficiently kept the photographers out, leaving them shouting behind me, and showed me to my table, where my friends were waiting. My stat
us as a duchess and heiress guaranteed me one of the best tables. It was a sign of my girlfriends' eagerness that they arrived before I did. Generally, we were all as fashionably late as we could get away with. It was almost a game to see who was tricked into arriving first. I'd taken more time than expected at the designer's. But I'd been considerate enough to text my girlfriends that I was running behind.

  I smiled as I approached the table and gave the group a wave. I was unexpectedly nearly brought to tears at the sight of them, all sedately dressed, their faces set with concern and uncertainty. I'd never seen them flummoxed by a social situation before. They'd been trained for everything but my unique situation.

  I'd been friends with Smithy, Lady Crystal Smith, since college. She'd done a year in the States. She was quintessentially British, fair and upper crust to her core, but delightful and fun. I loved listening to her posh, yet unaffected, accent. I'd known Jennis Jones and Ali Hall since my first year out of college. They were each also lovely and stylish, thin—they could wear anything—but, most of all, witty and sympathetic. The kind of friends everyone dreams of. And Dusty, Lady Dustin Johnson, short and stocky, was the daughter of one of Mom's oldest friends. I'd always believed Dusty was Mom's inspiration for absolutely wanting me to have a title. Mom was a type-a personality to her core. She was compelled to keep up with her friends, even exceed them if possible. One by one, my friends rose to congratulate me.

  Smithy smiled at me and gave me a quick hug. "What? No Ren?"

  "Stop it," I said. "I told you he wouldn't be here. You've seen the news. For once, they got something right. He deserted me the morning after our wedding. He doesn't even know I'm in town. I'm staying at the hotel tonight."

  "I can't believe Ren thought he could keep you locked away in that castle," Smithy said. "That's positively Victorian."

  "Fortunately, we're not in Victorian times. No one keeps me locked up."

  "Don't worry about Ren. If he said he'll be back, he will. How could he stay away?" Dusty hugged me fiercely before holding me at arm's length and looking me deep in the eyes. "How are you managing?" She cocked her head. "Are you sad? Mourning? Deep in grief? Or happy, excited, and a blushing new bride? I'm usually very good at reading people, especially you. But now I can't decide. You're an enigma today."

  "I never blush." I grinned.

  "You didn't answer my question," Dusty said.

  "All of them," I said. "Every emotion you named and more. I'm as confused as you are. I don't know how I'm supposed to feel."

  "Feel anything you want," Dusty said. "Anything you need to feel. Whatever emotion strikes you at the moment."

  "Leave it to Dusty to know the right thing to say and do. The rest of us were hoping to follow your lead," Jennis said. "Now we'll be mirroring you like a bunch of monkeys on a rollercoaster."

  I laughed. They always made me feel better.

  Jennis reached for my left hand. "Let me see the ring."

  "It's Manly's ring. Ren married me with Manly's ring. And I gave him the ring I'd bought for Manly. No time for ring shopping. Maybe we'll remedy that someday if our marriage survives long enough. Like a year. New rings for our first anniversary would be nice."

  Jennis took a closer look at the ring. "Very nice. Not, I would imagine, to Ren's taste."

  "Survives long enough? Does your marriage have an expiration date? I assume Manly stipulated a minimum time served," Ali said.

  "He stipulated many things," I said, avoiding letting too many details slip.

  "If you're as smart as I think you are, you won't let Ren go," Dusty said. "Arranged marriages have just as much chance at lasting as any. They're an ancient British tradition, after all. And if they aren't completely happy, we endure."

  "Longevity and happiness are two different things, though," Ali said. "We want you to be happy, Bliss. Hard to imagine you won't be with a hot guy like Ren, but that's up to you. You certainly had a brilliant, unique start to yours."

  "Some might call it challenging." I looked around at them. "You all look lovely…and sedate today. Are you off to a group job interview? And the color theme is gray?"

  "I believe the color theme we went with is dove—halfway between bliss and grief," Dusty said, the corners of her mouth turning up. "White with shades of black for both occasions, wedding and mourning. "

  Ali shot Jennis a look. "We didn't know how to dress for this lunch. Jennis insisted we play it safe and go middle of the road, whatever that is. So here we are looking like stuffed shirts. Fashionable shirts, but still."

  "You know how much Manly loved scandal and beautiful women. Ren, too. Save black for the funeral," I said. "Or come in outrageous color."

  "Do we congratulate you and toast your nuptials? Or should we be solemn and deep in grief with you?" Ali made a sad face that was so comical I laughed.

  "Stop it," I said. "No grief. No mourning. Manly would absolutely hate that."

  "Good." Ali pulled her chair out. "I prefer fun."

  We settled into our chairs around the table with Dusty on one side of me and Jennis on the other.

  "Speaking of fun—I can't believe we missed the wedding of the century." Jennis rubbed her finger at me.

  "As if that's my fault. I invited all of you. Sincerely." They all knew I was lying. The tacit agreement was that they wouldn't come. I flagged the waiter and ordered a glass of wine. Jennis caught him and ordered a bottle of my favorite white.

  "You naughty girl, you did not. You discouraged us from coming." Ali was always the forthright one.

  I sighed dramatically. "Only because I know how much all of you disapproved. If I'd known Manly was going to die and thrust me into marriage with his mysterious nephew, I would have insisted you all come."

  "I can't believe you were really going to go through with marrying a man who was a hundred years old." Smithy raised an eyebrow.

  The wine arrived. The waiter passed out glasses to each of us and poured.

  Dusty raised her glass. "A moment of silence in memory of the late duke, if you please. To Manly—he was on the brink of ecstasy with our darling Bliss. Death, with its nasty sense of humor, came too soon, even for a man of his age. But not for us." She smiled slyly.

  "Cheers!" We raised our glasses and observed the moment of silence. Manly would have loved the toast. He would have loved Dusty and her sense of humor, too.

  I took a sip. "You just made my point with that lovely toast. I couldn't withstand the force of all of you trying to talk me out of marrying Manly, and you know it."

  "To set the record straight," Dusty said, "we had ulterior motives besides the horror of involuntarily picturing you in bed with a wrinkled old man." She shuddered exaggeratedly. "An image like that simply will not leave a person alone."

  The looks on the faces of my other friends confirmed they were in complete agreement.

  "What ulterior motives?" I asked. "And stop picturing me in bed with anyone."

  "Ren," Dusty said innocently. "We were torn between the two of you. Surely you realized that? We've either known his family forever or have good friends and family who have. I think I speak for all of us when I say that although we love you deeply, we sympathized with Ren. It was rotten of his uncle to try to cut him out of his inheritance so late in life. Especially when he's suffered so much because of it."

  I was so stunned that I was speechless. They were on Ren's side? That was the main part of their objection? "Why didn't you say anything?"

  "What could we say, really?" Ali said. "Anything would be disloyal. It was better to remain neutral."

  "Don't look so scandalized and shocked." Jennis threw her arm around me and leaned her head against mine. "You know we love you. We love you both. Given everything, we had to stay away from the wedding. It was too dodgy a situation. We simply couldn't be seen by our peers as taking sides." She paused. "But we were always on yours. If you'd wanted us there, we would have come."

  Jennis grabbed the bottle of wine and refilled everyone's glasses. "Spea
king of which, we have another toast to make—to the new duke and duchess and their continued and lasting happiness!"

  "Cheers!" As we clinked glasses again, I felt lighter despite my surprise. They seemed to be taking my marriage in stride, and that was all that was important.

  "Tell us, your grace," Dusty said with a devilish look in her eyes, "what is it like to land London's most sought-after bachelor?"

  "Most sought-after bachelor?" I nearly spat out my wine. "Ren? I thought he was a pariah. The villagers certainly treat him like one. He has no friends there."

  Jennis's eyes went wide. "Have you been living under a rock? You need to get to London more often. You didn't meet Ren before at one of my parties?"

  I shook my head. Jennis threw lavish parties. It was impossible to get around and meet everyone at one of her events. I would have remembered meeting Ren, or even glimpsing him in a crowd.

  Jennis's brow furrowed. "Now that I think about it, Ren hasn't been much into partying in recent years. He's become a bit of a workaholic. Too bad."

  Ali waved a hand. "Villagers can be so provincial. Of course Ren's in demand! One look at him and even someone who's almost blind can see why. He's perfectly yummy and delectable. Don't tell me you're the one woman in the country who's immune to his charms? Now that would be irony."

  "The look on your face!" Smithy said. "He has worked his magic on you. I knew it. I told the others this arranged marriage wasn't going to be purely business. Of course it's business, but not only business."

  "Arranged marriage!" I put a hand to my heart. "It was love at first sight. How dare you think otherwise." It was lust at first sight.

  Smithy rolled her eyes. "Darling, you weren't fooling anyone with your act that you were in love with Manly. There's no way you can get away with it with Ren. But the inducement to marry him is so much better. You'll have fun with Ren, at least."