Where There's A Will

by MacGregor, Janna

  “There’s no place I’d rather be.” She squeezed his hand. “Tell me what else you noticed about the duke.”

  Chapter Four

  “What in the blazes is all that?” Christian demanded as he looked out his study windows that overlooked the front lawn of Rand House. There were literally hundreds of handkerchiefs thrown around the sculpted boxwoods that adorned the lawn.

  “Tokens from your admirers?” Wheatley offered tentatively as he stepped into the study.

  “Have Grisham and the other gardeners clean them away.” Christian turned to his desk and his coffee. Wafts of steam rose from the cup, suggesting a perfectly brewed cup instead of the sludge that he’d partaken of whilst in the army. That was another thing he’d missed during the war, freshly ground coffee brewed to perfection.

  Morgan looked at the same view and shook his head. “There are more today than yesterday. It seems a waste to throw them out. Many of them are brand new.”

  Christian grunted. “Burn them for all I care.”

  Morgan turned around and smiled. “I have a better idea. There’s a charity for homeless men who’ve returned from the war. They could use them, I’m sure.”

  Wheatley beamed at the suggestion. “Excellent idea, Mr. Morgan.” He cleared his throat and looked Christian’s way. “Your Grace, Mr. Hanes is here.”

  “Thank you. Will you send him in?” Christian sat and took a sip of the black brew. It tasted even better than it smelled. Before his butler could leave, he called out, “Oh, and Wheatley?”

  “Yes, sir?” the butler asked.

  “Thank you for the excellent care you gave my roses. They’re about to bloom again.”

  “It was an honor, Your Grace.” With a flush to his cheeks, the butler left to escort the solicitor into the room.

  Mr. Hanes had been employed by the family since Christian’s father had been the duke. He knew every dirty secret buried deep within the vaults of the Vareck family history. With a smile that spread across his face, the solicitor entered unannounced.

  Christian rose from his chair. “Mr. Hanes, thank you for coming today.”

  “The pleasure is all mine, Your Grace.” The solicitor dipped a deep bow. “Welcome home, sir.”

  “Thank you.” Christian motioned for the solicitor to take a chair. “Hanes, I’d like to introduce you to my batman now my valet, Jacob Morgan.”

  Both men acknowledged greetings, then they all sat down to business.

  “You can’t find Lord Meriwether’s will?” The solicitor pushed his wire-framed spectacles up his nose.

  “No. I’ve searched in every conceivable place that I could think of. I wonder if Meri even gave it to me. Wheatley helped me search.” Christian stood abruptly and walked to the window. Deuce take him that he had to waste any more time on his half brother’s affairs. He exhaled slowly. He shouldn’t take that attitude. It was his duty, the last one he’d have to perform on behalf of Meri. “Do you need it? He only had me as family. After his bills are paid, there probably won’t be anything left.”

  “Apparently, he has a wife, Your Grace,” Hanes said softly.

  Christian stared at the solicitor, considering how to respond. He turned his attention back to the window and concentrated on the slips of colorful material hanging on the boxwoods. He forced himself not to curse. He’d not speak ill of the dead, nor would he say anything against Meriwether’s wife.

  But truly, who in all of England would marry his degenerate half brother, a profligate, wasteful man who loved to live beyond his means and bet on horse races?

  “When?” Christian asked, not turning away from his watch.

  “Approximately a year ago,” Hanes offered. “Here in London, according to his papers.”

  “Who is she?”

  “The former Miss Katherine Greer. I discovered she doesn’t live far from here. About two streets over.”

  “Surprising that she hasn’t contacted me. No telling what kind of a woman she is.” It was wicked to even make a judgment about the woman before he’d ever met her. However, if she’d married his rakish half brother, Christian had good cause to think ill of her. He clasped his hands behind his back, then glanced over his shoulder. “Has she written to you?”

  Hanes nodded. “She’s written to one of my clerks. She’ll be at my office later this morning. When Lady Meriwether arrives, I’ll explain what’s happened and what I believe will be her share of your late brother’s estate.”

  Christian cringed slightly at the title of Lady Meriwether. “Half brother,” he added curtly.

  From the corner of his eye, a movement caught his attention, and he turned his attention to the window. A woman in a mauve gown slowed in front of his home. She seemed mesmerized by the sight of all the handkerchiefs strewn about the place. He felt the same, only not in a good way.

  The hat she wore covered her face, hiding her expression from him. No doubt, she was as appalled as he by the appearance of the handkerchiefs. For some reason, he watched her. The woman’s movements could only be described as elegant and graceful. Her gown was not ostentatious but stylish in a subdued manner. The tilt of her head and her graceful stride marked her a woman of quality. She lowered her head then hesitated at the walk leading to the front door. It was almost as if she contemplated something.

  Hoping for a better glimpse, he leaned forward until his forehead was less than an inch from the glass pane. His chest expanded as he held his breath, hoping she’d turn and walk toward his front door. Perhaps she was another soldier’s wife or sister who wanted to offer him another welcome home but was too shy to approach. He’d gladly receive her. It would keep him from having to listen to the droll details of Meri’s estate and widow.

  For what other reason would an unaccompanied woman come to his house? She wanted to speak with him. Yes, that had to be why the woman was here. Thankfully, she didn’t have a handkerchief in her hand. If he had any luck at all, she wasn’t married but wanted to share a kind word or thought.

  The overwhelming urge to leave this room became nigh near impossible to ignore. He’d go to the front door and invite her into his home, this very study, and . . . the world would melt away. It’d be the two of them in conversation, a simple but heartfelt one where they shared each other’s secrets.

  Christian raised his hand to knock on the window. Never had he felt such an irresistible need to meet a woman—this woman in particular. He wanted to know everything about her. Where did she come from? Who was her family? Why was she here?

  This was ridiculous. Christian relaxed his clenched hand. He’d never been a man who got lost in fanciful romantic whimsies.

  But then . . . she pulled a handkerchief from her reticule. His stomach knotted as if preparing for a blow that would knock the wind out him. What was she doing? Surely, she wasn’t going to add hers into the mix, hoping that he’d find it in the piles of linen and silk that adorned his home.

  She brought it toward her face. He couldn’t see the entire movement, but he thought she might have dabbed her eyes. Perhaps she was as overcome as he at the idea of meeting each other.

  He almost laughed aloud. It was another fantastical idea. He wanted to open the window and shout “hello,” so she’d tilt her face to his. One view would satisfy the overwhelming urge to see if her face was as beautiful as her figure.

  Instead, he simply mouthed the words without uttering a peep.

  Hello there. I’ve been waiting for you.

  If fate held any favor for him, then the woman would look his way.

  “Your Grace?” Mr. Hanes called out.

  Christian turned at the sound of urgency in his voice.

  “What about your brother’s will? Might I ask if you’ll search for it once more?”

  * * *

  Katherine stopped in the middle of the paved footpath to the front door of the Duke of Randford’s house. What exactly did she hope to accomplish by her visit? It was ridiculous to have made the trek to the duke’s house to meet him, and
quite out of her character.

  She glanced at the vast array of pieces of gawdy cloth draped over the boxwoods that stood guard over the house. Some had keys attached. Others had notes . . . probably love notes . . . pinned in display, begging for a private moment with the war hero duke.

  Even if he would see her, what would she say to him? So lovely to meet you, Your Grace. I heard a remarkable story about you from a boy who works for me. I wanted proof that you were not the ogre I once thought you’d be.

  She stopped and retrieved a handkerchief. It was her favorite, and the one that always brought her luck. She’d embroidered the white rose of York in the center as a remembrance of who she was and where she came from. She brought it to her nose and inhaled the deep scent of lavender. The fragrance reminded her of her mother and the underlying strength that defined her.

  As her mother’s child, she had that same fortitude. She tilted her head to stare at the monstrous neoclassical style manse in front of her. A slight movement on the second floor caught her attention. For a moment, she thought it might be him—the duke.

  His back faced her. Even through the window, he appeared massive in size. She prayed he’d turn toward her. Just a glimpse and she’d be satisfied. She wanted to see his face but mostly his eyes. She’d know in an instant if he was as kindhearted and courageous as she’d come to believe. Only then would she know if he’d be the one to vanquish the lonesomeness that had haunted her over the months. They would share a multitude of conversations, the very ones she had conjured late at night when she couldn’t bear the heartache of being alone for another hour.

  He leaned his back against the window while resting his hands on the windowsill, a pose of leisure. Even from here, there was a powerful hint of his unease. What could trouble him? The loss of his brother or perhaps something else?

  She blew out a breath of disbelief. She’d married his brother to cleanse the black mark of her birth. As a bastard, no one would have anything to do with her. But when she’d married the duke’s brother, she’d become quality. If the Duke of Randford ever discovered the truth, he’d have nothing to do with her.

  Much like the handkerchiefs that decorated his home.

  The clouds suddenly parted. Instantly, the pathway was awash in light. Her eyes automatically narrowed at the dazzling sunlight. Its brilliance blocked any view inside the windows.

  There was nothing to accomplish here today. She needed to quit chasing such a folly. She’d have better luck accomplishing her goals and heart’s desire if she went about her business and left the war hero duke to her dreams.

  With a quick turn of her heel, Katherine did just that. She was no better than all those women fawning over him.

  She left the duke to all the other ladies and their handkerchiefs who demanded his attention. She’d not be part of such a spectacle. Besides, she had to change into a more formal gown for her visit to the solicitor’s office.

  Yet, that turncoat organ in the middle of chest beat a little harder with the hope that she’d meet him at Mr. Hanes’s office later that morning.

  * * *

  “I’ll keep searching. If I find the will, I’ll have it delivered to your office,” Christian said distractedly to the solicitor. All he wanted to do was rush outside and escort the woman in. When he returned his attention to the window, his heartbeat stumbled.

  She was gone.

  After a frantic search of the front lawn, he rested his head against the window and closed his eyes. It was rather amusing and exasperating at the same time that the first interest in a woman he’d experienced in three long years had turned into a mirage.

  “Unfortunately, Your Grace, I must return to my office or I’d help you look for the document.” After a brief silence, Mr. Hanes cleared his throat. “One of my clerks found a little complication in Lord Meriwether’s estate that must be addressed before you arrive.”

  “Is anything amiss?” Christian didn’t turn from the window.

  “I’m sure it’s nothing, Your Grace.”

  After a parting glance below him, Christian returned to his desk as the solicitor took his leave.

  Morgan approached him and stared for a moment. “Captain, is everything all right?”

  Christian nodded as he picked up the quill and uncapped the ink. Morgan had the uncanny ability to see straight through him at times. “I’m a little . . .” How to explain that he was disappointed that he didn’t meet his mystery lady? “I’m fine.”

  An enigmatic smile tugged at Morgan’s lips. “Shall I take another look through your papers?”

  “Please. With your keen sense of detail, you might find something that I’ve missed.” Christian returned his attention to his correspondence. His heart really wasn’t much interested in his work, but matters regarding his estates and tenants needed his attention.

  After an hour, a knock sounded on the door. He looked up from the myriad papers strewn around his desk.

  “He found it, Your Grace,” Wheatley called out as he approached with Morgan beside him, waving a paper in his hands.

  “Your brother’s will, Captain.” Morgan placed it on his desk.

  “Half brother,” Christian qualified.

  Wheatley raised a disapproving brow. “It’s almost a quarter to nine. I’ve sent a footman ahead to inform Mr. Hanes you’ll be arriving shortly. I’ve also called for your carriage to be brought out front. If you’re lucky, the streets will be light with traffic at this hour of the day.”

  Christian stood slowly and slipped on the fitted morning coat that Morgan held for him. After he donned the garment, the valet tied the black band around his right arm. “Where did you find it?”

  “It was in your campaign bureau. The one you brought home. I found it in the hidden side drawer.” Morgan stood back and nodded in approval at Christian’s appearance.

  “Thank you.” Christian looked at his desk once more and then the window. He couldn’t help but think this was an omen of good luck. If the will had been found, perhaps he’d find the woman who still lingered in his thoughts. At least then he could see her face.

  What a nonsensical thought. Trying to find a person you’ve never met in a city the size of London is like finding a stitching needle in a haystack.

  As Christian turned to leave, Morgan addressed Wheatley. “Do you think he’ll reach the solicitor’s office by nine o’clock?”

  “No doubt about it.” Wheatley’s voice followed him. “Never been late in his life. The duke is always on time.”

  Moments later, his carriage hurried through the streets of London.

  Instead of thinking about his half brother, his attention was focused on every lady his carriage passed. There wasn’t a single sight of a mauve gown.

  None of them were her.

  Deep in his heart, he knew the truth. Somewhere, somehow, he’d find her.

  Chapter Five

  Standing outside the solicitor’s office, Katherine tugged her gloves a little tighter as a feeling of melancholy swept over her. This was the final goodbye to her husband. Though they were together for such a short time, she’d show the proper respect for his passing. As Meri’s widow, it was her responsibility.

  “Come, Kat.” Willa opened the door to the solicitor’s office. “The quicker we can get your money, the quicker we can leave.” She waved her forward. “There’s something about this place that doesn’t sit right with me.”

  “Don’t say that.” Kat glanced down the street. There was no carriage emblazoned with the Duke of Randford’s coat of arms nearby. Perhaps he wasn’t coming.

  She should accept the fact that her ideal image of the duke was a creation of her own imagination. A sudden chill skated down her back. Unfortunately, Willa was quite adept at predicting mayhem.

  She took one of Willa’s hand in hers and shivered again.

  “Are you cold, lass?” The look of concern in her loyal companion’s eyes brought Kat some needed comfort.

  “A bit.” She smiled, then leaned clo
ser to her companion. “Whatever happens today, you and I will be just fine.”

  “You’re sounding as gloomy as me.” Willa looked up and down the streets as if expecting highwaymen to pop out of nowhere and steal them away.

  “Perhaps.” Kat tugged her forward. “Or mayhap, I’m just being pragmatic. Let’s get this over with.”

  * * *

  Lady Meriwether, the former Constance Lysander, put her hand over her swollen belly as the baby kicked five times in a row, protesting the lack of room inside its mother’s stomach. Well, if it was any consolation, Constance felt the same. She rubbed her hand over her stomach, hoping to soothe the baby.

  And herself. Within a moment or two, the repetitive motion caused the baby to settle.

  The constant sway of the carriage should have comforted Constance even more. But the twinge of misgiving wouldn’t leave her be. She didn’t feel like a widow. Her gaze swept across the London scenery that passed. People of all classes and manners were busy attending to their business. But none of it held her attention for long. All her thoughts were elsewhere. She hadn’t seen her husband in months. She hadn’t even discovered that Meri had passed until she’d received the letter from the solicitor’s office last week.

  Constance’s husband had left her and Portsmouth after a month of marriage. She never laid eyes on him again. He would not have been aware she was carrying his baby. She let out a tremulous sigh. Would he have come home if he’d known?

  “Constance?” Her aunt Vee reached over and patted her hand. “You look tired, love.”

  “A little, but I’m ready for my meeting with the solicitor.” She looked at her darling aunt and smiled.

  “I wish you didn’t have to do this,” Aunt Vee said.

  “It won’t last long. I’m sure the duke will allow us to stay with him this evening, then we’ll return home tomorrow.” When she received the summons to appear in London, she’d come straightaway.

  “Don’t you think you should rest for a few days before we journey home?” Lines of worry crept across Aunt Vee’s brow.