“All is well, My Lord,” Mr. Tiff responded gruffly. He was a broad and rough man, which was unusual for a manservant. Mr. Tiff could look somewhat intimidating, which was precisely why Owen liked him.
“Did she, what’s-her-name.” Owen scrunched his face trying to remember his doxy’s name. “Did she get back all right?”
“Aye,” Mr. Tiff responded. “The carriage left early this morning.”
“Very good.” Owen sighed.
“Why are you hovering around me still?” he added, annoyed that his manservant was still near him.
“His Grace, the Duke of Aston, has requested to see you today,” Mr. Tiff said, unperturbed by his master’s retort.
“Oh, does he now?” Owen chuckled humorlessly.
“His Grace said he would be expecting you at one o’clock,” Mr. Tiff added.
“I will have to check my schedule.” Owen scoffed.
“Very well, My Lord.” Mr. Tiff turned and left.
What could my father possibly want, and so early, too!
Later that day, he entered his childhood home, Aston Manor. All around him, servants bowed as he passed them, but he paid them no attention. The butler accompanied him to the parlor, knocked on the door, and waited for the response from the Duke before opening the door and announcing Owen’s arrival.
“Your Grace wished to see me,” he said in his best, polite voice.
“You’re late.” The Duke of Aston shook his head disapprovingly.
“My apologies, Your Grace,” he began, “I did not know you wis—”
“Spare me your lies.” his Father cut him off.
“Your Grace?” This was most unlike his Father. He had been plenty frustrated with him before, certainly, but the Duke always gave him a chance to explain himself.
“I have had enough of your insubordination,” his father barked. “All day you lay about and do nothing. Don’t think I don’t know where you spend your evenings or those you accompany. You squander money, and you behave in a way that is not fit for a gentleman of your rank.” The Duke was now standing, his knuckles white from his tight fist.
“I apol—” Owen tried but was interrupted again.
“You will attend the Season and find yourself a wife, or you will be cut off.” The Duke looked him dead in the eye.
“What do you mean, cut off?” Owen asked, his mind racing.
“You will be left without any,” the Duke emphasized the word “inheritance.”
Owen could not speak. This was utterly unjust!
How dare he?
“You’re dismissed,” the Duke added, looking away from him, and stormed from the room.
* * *
Owen sat in his usual seat at the gentleman’s club he frequented. He was on his third brandy, much earlier than was his preference. But he did not want to think clearly.
How can my father do this to me?
His anger pulsated within him. Movement in front of him made him look up from staring into his glass.
“You certainly look miserable, old chap,” Mr. Pratt, one of his oldest friends, sat down in front of him. Owen said nothing but finished his drink in one swallow.
“Let me guess,” Mr. Pratt said jovially. “Your latest conquest spurned you?” His red curls bounced with every word he spoke.
“If only that were the case.” He sighed heavily.
“This is serious, I gather.” Mr. Pratt signaled the waiter to bring them more drinks.
“His Grace,” he said sneeringly, “decided this morning that I am to be married, by the end of the Season.”
To his surprise, Mr. Pratt roared with laughter. “I thought something dreadful had happened!”
“He said if I do not get married, he will write me out of his will,” he replied angrily.
“I understand this is an annoyance, but dear chap, if anyone can talk a lady into getting married, it’s you.” Mr. Pratt took a large sip of his drink.
“The Season has already begun, and I cannot be bothered with these dreadful balls and ceremonies,” he said sulkily.
“There are plenty of young ladies that are positively itching to get married,” Mr. Pratt said dismissively. “You saw how they behaved at the cricket match!”
“You’re not wrong,” he replied, thinking about the young lady he had tracked down after spotting her eying him at the game. Perhaps he should try and find her again. His spirits had lifted, and he couldn’t think of a better way to celebrate than with his head buried into a young lady’s sumptuous bosom.
“Some of them even come attached to a substantial dowry,” Mr. Pratt said, lowering his voice.
“And probably look like dogs,” Owen interjected.
“Not all of them.” Mr. Pratt continued, still speaking quietly.
“Did you have someone particular in mind?”
“I heard a rumor that the Lord Chief Justice’s daughter comes with a sizable dowry. She’s an only child, and quite pretty, I’d say.” Mr. Pratt leaned back in his seat, yawning.
“She’s not courting anyone?” he asked.
“I know she rejected a few hopeful suitors last Season.”
“You might be onto something there, Pratt.” He waved to the waiter again, ordering more drinks before saying, “Do you know who she turned down?”
“Let me think. I think one of them was Scottish,” Mr. Pratt replied. “Mr. Stanley, that’s the one. Also the Knight, Sir Lucas.”
“They’re pathetic,” Lord Estaria said, feeling much more sure of his chances.
The ball at Almack’s was that night. He had not bothered this Season to obtain a voucher, but he knew he would be able to sweet-talk the patronesses of Almack’s with ease. These old ladies were usually impressed by him, or intimidated by his grandmother, the Dowager Duchess of Aston. He would need to find out more about the Lord Chief Justice’s daughter before going after her.
This would be very different from his usual approach. If this lady had already spurned some advances, he would have to do his very best to charm and woo her. Perhaps it would be a good idea to visit his grandmother, who was very knowledgeable about the happenings around the ton.
However, it made him cringe to think that Her Grace might pity him or try to help him. He didn’t need anyone, not even his own family. Ever since his mother died when he was a young boy, he had relied solely upon himself.
Suddenly, he had a thought. If old Pratt was right, and usually he was, this could all turn out to be a lucrative opportunity for him. If she really was this wealthy, he wouldn’t need his father’s blessing for anything. The image of everything he could do with all that money made him itch to go out there.
How hard can it be to talk one young lady into marriage?
He looked at Mr. Pratt again. “Say, what is her name? The Lord Chief Justice’s daughter.”
Mr. Pratt chortled, as he held out his glass for Owen to toast him.
“Lady Caroline!”
Chapter 15
Caroline lay in her bed. Her mind was filled with thoughts of the night before. She could not believe her aunt had done that—accepted Lord Estaria’s invitation. When she had arrived home last night, she'd been overcome with melancholy and confusion.
Her aunt had spoken during the whole carriage ride that the ball had been most excellent and that Caroline ought to consider herself lucky, for Lord Estaria was quite the catch. But now, all feelings of somberness had left her. She felt the injustice of this situation coursing through her. She sat up in her bed, feeling wild and tempestuous.
During breakfast, she was quiet. Her father had left for court already, so she sat alone in the dining room with the Dowager Duchess. Caroline did not wish to speak with her aunt, who had begun to talk about Lord Estaria.
“Caroline,” the Dowager Duchess said, looking incredulous. “Are you not listening to me?”
Caroline sighed and closed her eyes for a moment. If she continued to behave this way, it would surely make matters much worse for her.
> “Apologies, Your Grace,” she replied with a small smile that did not reach her eyes. “I must be tired, from the ball—all that dancing.”
“I have a splendid idea.” The Dowager Duchess seemed placated by her response. “What if we pay a visit to the Tea Room you always liked?” Caroline turned her head rapidly, staring at her aunt. She had not gone to the Tea Room for a long while. They served candied fruit, cakes, biscuits, and delicious ice creams.
I wonder why Her Grace is inviting me out today? Is it possible she feels guilty about her actions? Or is this simply a way to appease me?
“I would love to,” she finally replied.
“Good!” The Dowager Duchess looked relieved beyond measure.
Later that afternoon, Caroline arrived at the Tea Room with her aunt. It was filled with ladies, as the weather was nice and warm, which was as good a reason as anything to have ice cream. Perhaps this was the reason the Dowager Duchess wished to come here. A great many guests from last night’s ball were at the Tea Room.
She perused over the menu, and feeling reckless, she ordered a grandiose dessert, filled with small pastries, whipped cream, and ice cream. But to her surprise, her aunt simply laughed and ordered. She had expected that her aunt would scold her for eating anything that might cause her waistline to expand.
After the food arrived, and Caroline had eaten her fill, a friend of the Dowager Duchess arrived, Lady Adams, who had just returned to London from a year of traveling. The two friends were delighted to see each other, and the Dowager Duchess asked her to join them.
Caroline was looking out the window and sudden realization washed over her.
How could I not have noticed? It’s right over there!
Trying to think of a reason that would make her aunt allow her to leave, she saw Lady Anna outside, walking along with her lady’s maid. This was it.
“Your Grace,” she began, speaking in a soft and sweet voice. “I have just seen my dear friend, Lady Anna. Would it be all right if I went over to her?”
“Yes, that should be fine.” The Dowager Duchess barely looked at her. “Don’t be gone too long,” she added. Caroline stood and hurried outside. Madeleine, who had been standing at the back the entire time, followed her.
“How are you, dear friend,” she said to Lady Anna.
“Sweet Lady Caroline.” Lady Anna beamed. “How wonderful to see you.”
“And you as well. Are you shopping?” Caroline looked around, searching for the right house.
“I am on my way to the linen draper, and I need a new summer gown.” Lady Anna gestured to the nearby shop.
“I need to ask for your help,” she replied urgently.
“What is it?” Lady Anna looked around anxiously. “Are you all right?”
“Yes.” She looked around and saw her aunt and Lady Adams deep in conversation. “I must go only for a little while. But my aunt will think I am with you.”
“Dearest, please tell me you’re not still on about this business with Emma and the former lady’s maids.” Lady Anna looked imploringly at her.
“No,” she said quickly, then added, “I promise.”
“Will you tell me where you are going?” Lady Anna asked.
“I cannot, but I will tell you one day.” Caroline smiled at her friend.
“I will help you,” Lady Anna said. “But you have to promise me you will be careful.”
“I promise!”
“You should also take Beth’s cape,” Lady Anna continued, turning to her lady’s maid. “Or else you will appear much too conspicuous. Let’s walk.” They strode toward the linen draper until they were out of sight from the Tea Room. Lady Anna pulled her into a small side street, and hastily handed her the gray cape from her lady’s maid. Caroline gave Beth her ivory parasol.
“Thank you!” She beamed at Lady Anna, wearing the gray cape. “I will meet you at the linen draper soon.”
They parted ways, and Caroline headed up the street. Madeleine walked next to her silently. Finally, she saw the correct house number. She stopped in front of it and read the small plaque, excitement flooding over her. Jasper Langley — Langley Legal Practice
Earlier, when she sat at the Tea Room, she had noticed that the street name was very familiar to her. At first, she couldn’t remember where she had read it, but then it all came back. This was the same street as Mr. Langley’s office. She remembered it from the business card he had given her, that fateful day when first they met.
Very slowly, she pushed open the door to the office. There was a steep staircase ahead, and at the top was a door she suspected led to Mr. Langley’s office. She needed to see him, after the disastrous happenings at the ball. He was the only one she longed to be near.
She ascended the stairs, her heart hammering in her chest. Softly she rapped on the door and heard the sound of movement. The door opened, and there he was, his hair on end, with a look of utter surprise.
“Lady Caroline?” Mr. Langley blinked a few times as if making sure she was really there.
“It’s good to see you again,” she replied with a wide grin. Nothing mattered right now, not when she was finally near him again.
“What are you doing here?” He looked around her, still seeming confused. “Come on in.” He moved to let her inside. Caroline looked around the small office. Everywhere, there were books or bunches of papers. It looked simply perfect. There were two desks, but Mr. Langley was alone. Slowly they approached one another, and Madeleine walked over to the small side room, giving them some privacy.
“I cannot believe you are here,” Mr. Langley whispered, taking her hand in his. She closed her eyes at his touch. “I was nearby, and I wanted to see you.”
“I have not stopped thinking about you.” He stroked her fingers and offered her a seat in one of the less worn cushioned chairs by the small fireplace. Caroline sat down and grabbed a book from a small stool next to her.
“Hah! Look at that.” She laughed softly.
“What is it?” Mr. Langley asked, sitting next to her, so close that their knees almost touched.
“This book.” She ran her finger down the spine of the book. “I remember sitting in my father’s office, reading it when I was a little girl, although I understood nothing.”
“You were thinking about politics at a young age?” Mr. Langley chortled good-naturedly.
“My mother died when I was very young, and the only place I felt complete solace was with books.” She looked at their almost touching legs, desperately wanting to stroke his thigh, to feel how the muscle would quiver.
“It was the same with me,” he said thoughtfully.
“When I felt particularly sad, I would ask my father to read to me, whatever he was working on at that time.” She laughed at the memory. She hadn’t thought about that for a long time. “Will you read to me?”
“Are you feeling sad?”
“Not at all,” she replied, biting her lip playfully.
“I would be honored to read to you, My Lady.” Mr. Langley stood up and grabbed a piece of paper from his desk and began reading to her his latest deposition. Caroline was very intrigued and asked him for more information about the case. Mr. Langley explained about the case of Lady Williams’ will. He spoke to her without any preamble and did not diminish her intellect. Instead, he confided in her his concerns.
Caroline felt freer than she had ever felt before. She told him her opinions and was repeatedly surprised when he listened intently to her and wished to further discuss the matter. Never before had she experienced that. It was not ladylike to discuss such issues, as she was continually being reminded.
“You have a sharp mind,” Mr. Langley said after an in-depth discussion about politics. “Have you ever considered writing?”
“Writing? What on earth could I write?” She stared at him, perplexed.
“I think you should write articles.” He looked determined. “For the newspaper. You have strong views, you’re terribly clever, and very articulate.
” Before she could respond to this preposterous idea of his, she was startled by a knock on the door.
Chapter 16
Mr. Langley jumped toward the door. He opened it slightly and spoke rapidly with someone before closing the door again. He turned around, looking apologetic.
“That was my associate.” He explained. “I asked him to come back later.”
For The Lust 0f A Rogue (Steamy Historical Regency Romance) Page 10
