Something Scandalous

by Christie Kelley

  “It doesn’t matter about the beds,” a sullen voice from the doorway said.

  Elizabeth turned and looked at the older boy. “Why is that? And who are you?”

  “I’m Michael. And it doesn’t matter about the spider or you or the beds or anything else.” Michael moved toward one of the beds and flopped on it, facedown.

  Elizabeth stood there, unsure of what to do. Should she call for William? She had never been around young boys before now.

  “Michael, we’re not going anywhere,” said an older adolescent from the corner.

  Had he been in the room the entire time? She was in completely over her head. “What do you mean, Michael?”

  He turned his head slightly from the pillow. “As soon as Will sells off everything, we’re moving back to America.”

  “What did you say?” The boy had to be wrong. William could not sell off everything and then leave. The estates were entailed and he had responsibilities to attend to here. If he left, who would care for the tenants? Who would care for the lands?

  Michael rolled onto his side and stared at her. “We’re going back. Will is going to sell off everything.”

  “Oh, no, he is not,” Elizabeth said, striding toward the door. “The servants will be up in a moment with bedding. Good night.”

  She slammed the door on the way out. Picking up her skirts, she raced down the marble stairs. Did the man know nothing? He couldn’t sell off the estates and return to America.

  She strode into the parlor to find the duke with his feet on the mahogany table and his head tilted into the corner of the wingback chair, with his dark brown eyes shuttered and his breathing even. Her anger should have dissipated at the sight of his obvious exhaustion, but it did not.

  “Get your filthy feet off my table!”

  One dark brown eye stared at her. Slowly, the other eye opened and one brow arched. “Your table?”

  She swatted at his feet. “Yes, my table.”

  He placed his booted feet on the floor and sat up straight. After folding his arms over his chest, he continued to stare at her.

  “Last I checked, I was the duke,” he said in a low tone. “I believe that means this house and everything in it belongs to me.”

  “Hah! You are incorrect on that matter. Some of the things belong to the title, not to you.”

  “It’s all the same to me,” he said with a dispassionate shrug.

  “Well, you would be wrong.”

  “Perhaps I am. I may have been born in this country, but it isn’t my home and never will be. For all I care, some other cousin can inherit this damned title.”

  She glared at him as her anger rose higher. “But they cannot.”

  “Oh?” He arched one eyebrow slightly.

  “As long as you are alive, you are the duke. Whether you like the idea or not,” she retorted.

  How dare this man think he could dismiss centuries of family history? Did he have no idea of what his relatives did to gain that title? The battles fought over land, the marriages brokered over money and land. All done to increase the family’s position and fortune. All done to give them the wonderful and secure life they had now.

  Meeting him almost made her wish Richard had inherited the duchy. At least he would have respect for the title and the history that went along with it. Although, he would gamble away the money. The situation was bewildering. She had one cousin who would gamble the estates to ruin, and another who would sell off everything. Well, she wasn’t about to allow either of those things to happen.

  “But again, I am the duke,” the arrogant, uncivilized man stated. “Therefore, I can do as I wish with the assets.”

  “You might be the duke,” she replied, balling her hands into tight fists. “But you cannot sell off this family’s properties and belongings.”

  He leaned his head back into the corner of the chair and smiled. “I don’t believe you have a say in the matter.”

  She smiled sternly at him. “Perhaps not. But I do know you cannot sell off any entailed property.”

  Watching his eyes widen and his mouth drop slightly, she knew she had caught him off guard. He knew nothing about the laws of inheritance in England. She could use his ignorance about the subject to her advantage.

  “What can’t I sell?”

  Ignoring his demanding question, she walked toward the door. “Good night, Your Grace. Pleasant dreams.”

  Chapter 3

  Will watched the aggravating woman walk out of the room as frustration seeped into his bones. What did she mean? Not everything he owned could be entailed. Could it?

  All his plans hinged on his selling some of the properties and finally returning to America. It had been his dream for the past five years. Without the money, he was no better off than he had been in Canada.

  He combed his fingers through his long hair. He desperately needed a shave and a haircut. Nevertheless, that could wait until tomorrow. He would question the little shrew about her comments then.

  The idea of staying in this godforsaken country for more than a moment necessary bothered him terribly. He had to get back to Virginia before Abigail’s father married her off to another man. A wealthy American man. Something Mr. Mason was certain Will was not. While many would consider Will wealthy now, in no manner would Mr. Mason consider an English duke an ally to the United States.

  “Your supper, Your Grace.” One of the footmen who had attempted to throw him out of his new home stood at the threshold.

  “Thank you…?”

  “Kenneth, sir.”

  “Thank you, Kenneth.”

  The footman set down the tray on the table where Will’s feet had previously been settled. “Your Grace, I must apologize for earlier. I was only doing as Lady Elizabeth requested. She had no idea who you were.”

  “I understand, Kenneth.”

  “It’s just that…”

  Will glanced up at the footman’s terrified face and understood. “You will not be turned out.”

  Relief washed across the young man’s face. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

  The man hurried from the room as if he feared Will would go back on his word. What a rigid society. Everyone concerned about not insulting a man because of his title. A rush of homesickness came over him. He hoped Alicia and David were doing well. His sister had always had a tough exterior but was a sentimental, softhearted woman. She would miss them all dreadfully.

  Almost as much as he missed her already.

  He reached for the bowl of stew and sighed. The aromas floated past his nose, bringing back memories of his stepmother’s wonderful cooking. She would have hated the idea he was here, but would have enjoyed the thought that he planned to sell off as much as possible. After he finished the delicious stew, he walked to the stairs, determined to find his room and finally sleep in a nonswaying bed.

  “The maids just finished in your bedchamber. Your room is the first door on the right.”

  “And the children?”

  Kenneth smiled. “They are on the third floor. Good night, Your Grace.”

  “Good night, Kenneth.”

  Will walked up the stairs and opened the door to the first room. Peering inside, he found the girls soundly asleep. Thank God. He wanted no more conversations for the night, only his soft bed. He departed the room and walked farther down the hall to the next room on the left. The boys were all asleep, except Michael.

  “Are you all right, Michael?” he whispered.

  “Go away, Will.”

  Will smiled. When Michael told him to go away, it meant come talk. Will sat on the edge of the bed and glanced about the room. “Nice to have a bed again?”

  “I suppose.”

  Will reached out and rubbed his stepbrother’s head. “We won’t be here for long.”

  “James said that once you see all the money you have here, you won’t wish to leave.”

  “Your brother is a fool.”

  “I know that.”

  “What I want is in America,”
Will said, thinking of Abigail’s sweet, innocent face. “Selling off everything will enable me to have what I want, and give you all a better life. So chin up, boy. I just need a couple of months.”

  “James said you could have all that here, and more. Being a duke is a really important thing.”

  “I thought we already established that James is a fool.”

  “We did,” Michael replied with a giggle.

  Will still hadn’t become accustomed to the lower register of Michael’s voice. At fourteen, Michael was a gangly jumble of half boy and half man.

  “Many of your elder siblings have idolized the idea of what England is truly like,” Will whispered.

  “I haven’t.”

  “No, you haven’t. But James, Ellie, and Lucy certainly do. That is why I insisted that all of you come with me. You need to see the England I remember. The poverty, the class system, the fact that people don’t get ahead here without a title…like your father, and mine.”

  “But you have a title, Will.”

  Will sighed and rubbed his stepbrother’s hair. “And if I didn’t, I would be nothing here, which is why I cannot stay.”

  Michael nodded. “Good night, Will.”

  He walked back downstairs, reached for the door-knob, and stopped. Had Kenneth said the second door on the left, or on the right? Will was so beyond tired he couldn’t remember. He opened the door to the left and a light, feminine gasp sounded from near the fireplace. She turned around and glared at him.

  “What are you doing in my bedchamber?”

  The small fire behind her displayed the shadows of her modest curves, and the glow flamed her long hair into beams of crimson. Her heart-shaped face, while covered in freckles, was completed with a pert nose and lips that were not too full and not too thin. Perfection. Her green eyes looked like emeralds shimmering in the dim light.

  He truly hadn’t taken an account of her beauty this evening when he’d been too preoccupied with other things. Or perhaps her irritable behavior had been the only thing he noticed.

  “Your Grace?” she squeaked.

  “I apologize, Elizabeth. I was looking for my room.”

  “It’s across the hall. The duke’s bedchamber is a full suite.” She crossed her arms over her chest as if to hide the fullness of her breasts. Instead, it only seemed to plump them.

  Desire flared but he attempted to tamp it down as quickly as it had fired. He was not attracted to the shrew. No matter how her lush body seemed to call to him. His heart had settled on Abigail.

  Not that his body seemed to note that fact. His erection pressed against the cotton of his drawers, desperate for release from its cloth prison.

  “Your Grace!”

  He swallowed hard, attempting to gain a measure of control of his sudden yearning. “Good night, Elizabeth.”

  He forced his feet to move toward the door, when all he really wanted was to step closer to her.

  Elizabeth sipped her chocolate and then broke off a bite of toast. He had seen her in her nightclothes last night. She’d felt the heat of his gaze, hotter than the fire behind her, burning into her. While she’d tried her best to cover her erect nipples from his view, she doubted her success. His gaze appeared to settle on her breasts.

  And she’d liked it.

  For the first time in her entire life, she felt something odd and strangely appealing when a man looked at her. Not a man, a ruffian. He smelled foul, like a man who hadn’t bathed in weeks. Of course, he probably hadn’t the chance to clean much on the ship.

  She was ill, that was surely the cause of this sudden departure from her normal manner. All this worrying over finding her mother’s hidden diary had caused her to lose her senses. Most notably her sense of smell, if she found that barbarian attractive, she thought with disdain. Hopefully, he would have enough intelligence to bathe this morning.

  Now with all the children in the house, she had no idea how to complete her search. Two of the last five rooms she had left to investigate were the children’s rooms. She’d also wanted to check the ducal bedchamber once more. With William in there, she would never be able to search the room again. She had to find a way to get in that room. It made the most sense that the diary was in there. The only option was to wait until he left the house some time.

  At least, he hadn’t mentioned her leaving the house now that he was installed here. But she had to find out what William’s intentions truly were, because even though she wasn’t the duke’s true daughter, the family name mattered to her.

  She could never let him ruin the family name.

  She pushed away the rest of her chocolate and toast, then strode from her room, determined to confront him. After searching various rooms, she found him in the study, huddled over the old desk.

  He glanced up quickly and mumbled, “Good morning.”

  Elizabeth gripped the leather chair in front of her. He had bathed and shaved. At least now she didn’t have to doubt her sanity. The man was beyond handsome. While his dark brown hair was still too long for the current style, his clean-shaven face showed a strong jaw and a chin with a slight dent in it. Even his nose was beautiful. Long and just a little crooked, as if it had been broken once.

  “Can I help you with something?” he asked roughly.

  Heat streaked across her cheeks. “I apologize. You look different this morning.”

  A slow smile moved his sensual lips upward. “As did you last night.”

  The heat on her cheeks burned her entire face. “I assume you found your bedchamber.”

  “Indeed. Is this what you came to discover? That I found my room?”

  “No. I wanted to speak with you about what you said last night.” She moved to take the seat in front of the desk when he remained quiet.

  “You won’t change my mind.”

  “But why?”

  He let the quill drop from his hand, and it landed with a plop on the ledgers in front of him. “Why what?”

  “Why would you wish to sell off what you can? Why would you leave the lands, the estates, the tenants, and the title?” The man had no idea of the history if he thought to leave without any consideration for the effects it might have on others.

  “My reasons are not your concern.” He sipped his coffee slowly and then stared at her again.

  “I see. You do realize that you cannot sell off three of the estates.”

  His eyes narrowed. “So you informed me last night. I never understood this archaic idea that land can only go to the eldest male.”

  “It’s actually quite simple,” she said. “The reason is so the land always stays in the family. A person cannot sell off everything, and leave nothing to his heir.”

  “And yet, the only person of importance in this system is the eldest male. The rest are sent off with a small allowance.” Will reached for his coffee again.

  “That hasn’t been a major concern as this family has never been blessed with an overabundance of males. The College of Heralds had to search back five generations to find your father’s connection to the family.”

  “So I am able to sell off any property not entailed?”

  “Yes,” she answered reluctantly.

  “I see. This entailment was a method of protecting the family.”

  Elizabeth smiled. He finally understood why it was so important to keep the family lands. Perhaps getting him to comprehend the important history of this family wouldn’t be so difficult after all. “Exactly,” she commented.

  “And as long as I’m alive, I remain the duke.”

  Elizabeth nodded. “Yes. And as long as your sons are born here or one of the English colonies, then the eldest living son would inherit upon your death.”

  “And if my sons were born in America?”

  A flicker of doubt fluttered through her. “Your eldest son would be considered an American. Therefore it has been determined that our cousin, Richard, would stand to inherit. Or of course, one of his children.”

  “I see,” he said, th
en stared down at the paper in front of him. Slowly, he looked up at her. “What about you?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “What happens to you?”

  Elizabeth chewed her lower lip. “It is not my welfare that concerns me.”

  “Of course it is,” he said with a smile. “It’s only human nature to be worried about your personal welfare.”

  Rage infused her veins. “You think I am only concerned about myself?”

  He leaned back against the leather desk chair in a casual manner. “What other reason would you have for interfering with my business?”

  She scraped back the chair, stood, and glared at him. “Not because it is my life you are turning upside down. Do you even know how many tenants the estates have? Or how many servants work for this family? Do you realize that every one of them might be turned out if you sell the lands?”

  “That is not my concern.”

  Elizabeth did her best not to run from the room. She had to stand up to the man—make him grasp the lives he could be ruining.

  “Indeed it is your concern. One of the duke’s main responsibilities is the welfare of his tenants.” She placed her hands on her hips, waiting his next rejoinder.

  He leaned back further and crossed his arms over his chest. “We both know I am not suited to be the duke. Nor do I wish to play duke. My concerns are only for my family and their well-being. The rest of the world can go hang itself.”

  “You are a selfish man. You would turn out innocent women and children so you can have your way.”

  Will had taken enough of her waspish mouth for one morning. He rose to his full height, forcing her to look up at him.

  “I am selfish? Because I put the interests of seven children first? Because I inherited a title that I had no desire for? Because I was forced to come to this detestable country and settle an estate I know and care nothing about?”

  She cringed. “I’m sorry.”

  Slowly, she returned to her seat and stared at her hands. “I didn’t think about how much all this must have upset your life.”

  “Not just my life. My entire family’s life.”

  “True.” She licked her lips. “But…”