by Ella Edon
The fact that he hadn’t received an instantaneous denial made him tense. “What has become of him?”
Even though Jerome’s voice was calm, the butler flinched. “Would you like me to inform him of your visit—?”
“There is no need,” Jerome clipped. “I will see him myself.” He looked at the aging woman who stood silently next to the butler, the housekeeper. She was a familiar face, as he’d known her ever since he was young. She was the only one of the three who didn’t seem intimidated by his presence. She said nothing to him.
Jerome looked away from her. He set off toward the grand staircase spread out before him, listening to the echo of his footsteps in the silent manor. The moment he’d walked in, he knew something was wrong. The manor was never silent. The air was oddly still as well, as if all the servants were tiptoeing around and not wanting to be heard.
Jerome’s hands clenched into fists at his side. He was hardly aware of Jackson following behind, but he almost held his up a hand, a silent command for him to leave him be. Jackson’s own footsteps came to a stop as Jerome continued on.
It did not take him long to arrive at the duke’s bedchamber. He paused before the door, letting that annoying tremor of nervousness drift through him before he raised his hand to knock.
“Enter,” came the duke’s voice. Jerome hesitated. He doesn’t sound good.
After a moment, Jerome entered the duke’s oversized bedchamber. He instantly spotted the duke standing on the balcony, the curtains by the doors drifting into the room. Jerome drew nearer, tentative.
“Is all well?” he asked. No greeting, because it was not welcomed. No announcement of his return, because it was not necessary. The duke preferred when he got straight to the point.
With a low grunt, His Grace, Francis Nelson of Leinster, turned to face Jerome. Wrinkles lined his face, his thin lips turned down in constant disapproval. His hair had gone entirely white, but Jerome had not forgotten the thick head of brown hair he’d once possessed. The duke had put on a bit of weight over the years, but he was still every bit the strong, domineering man Jerome had known since the day Jerome learned he was his father.
“You have returned,” Francis pointed out.
Jerome frowned slightly. For as long as he’d known the duke, he’d always spent his time in his office. He was a man who lived through his work, managing his business and the dukedom with ease. He gave little time to other aspects of his life and, as such, failed miserably in social settings. Many knew the name of the wealthy Duke of Leinster, but not many knew who he truly was, unless they happened to be in business with him.
It was odd seeing him in here. Standing on his balcony, his voice calm.
“Yes,” Jerome said, venturing closer. They were about the same tall height, with a very muscular build. “Are you well?” he repeated.
Francis said nothing to that. He turned to face the overlook from the balcony, the bit of the Leinster gardens that had been dedicated to the late Duchess of Leinster. “Tell me how it fared,” he ordered.
Jerome’s frown deepened. Despite himself, he felt a pinch of unease. But he could not very well go against what his father had asked him to do. “I have successfully established a route with Belman Company. They will now be using our ships to facilitate their trade between America and the Far East.”
It was simple and to the point. Jerome knew his father didn’t want to hear him talk about the specific details of his trip. The duke only wanted results, and results he would give him.
“Good,” was all his father said. Jerome had long ago learned how to live with that stab of disappointment.
Jerome joined his father in facing the gardens. The roses that were now growing there had been planted in memory of the late duchess, but Jerome could never look at them without thinking of his own mother. A simple servant girl she had been before she’d fallen for the duke. And a hardened mother she had become when she had been tossed aside. Jerome hadn’t learned of his lineage until he was a teenager and the duke, perhaps because of his wife’s childless status, had welcomed him. Now, Jerome’s mother was gone, the duke’s wife had passed, and all that remained was a strained relationship between father and son.
Though it seemed Jerome was the only one being affected by it. He looked at his father, feeling at odds with the soulful expression on his face. “Has something happened?” he asked him. “Why are you not in your office?”
“I do not wish to be,” was the duke’s only reply.
But Jerome would not leave it at that. “It seems the servants are all tense. There was an air of unease in the manor when I arrived.”
Francis grunted. “What would you have me do, address them regarding my wellbeing?”
“No,” Jerome responded easily. “But at least put my mind at ease. Are you unwell?” He thought back on what the butler had said and felt his uneasiness growing.
To make matters worse, Francis did not respond right away. He continued to gaze out before him, and Jerome wondered if he was thinking about his words. Finally, he spoke, “Yes. I am not well. I believe I will die soon.”
“Father…”
“I am an old man,” Francis went on. “I have spent all my life working hard without giving myself much time to rest. I have done all that I should as the Duke of Leinster. And still, I have failed.”
Alarmed, Jerome faced his father. “I find it hard to believe that the gentleman who has achieved so much wealth and prestige for his dukedom could say such a thing.”
Then, the unthinkable happened. Francis smiled. “We are but humans, Jerome. We may strive for one thing and fail terribly in another. In my case, I have neglected my health.”
Jerome tightened his grip on the railing. “What did the physician say? Did he tell you what might be the cause of your illness? Why are you not in bed?”
“I am an old man, Jerome,” Francis repeated. “It would do me no good to fight it.”
And then he coughed. The wheezing sound felt like a punch to Jerome’s chest. He stood there, watching as the man he’d looked up to half his life, the man he’d worked so hard to make proud, shank under the weight of his cough.
This…this just does not make sense.
“There is something I want you to do, Jerome,” his father said once the coughing fit ended.
Jerome stood a bit straighter. “Yes, Father. Anything.”
“You must inherit the dukedom.”
Jerome went still. For so long he’d wished to hear those words. To hear them now felt like a dream. He was an illegitimate son, one that had been hidden away from the world to prevent a scandal. It felt like a fool’s dream to yearn for the title.
“Are you certain, Father?” Jerome asked, trying to calm his rapidly beating heart.
Francis nodded. “You are not the son of my wife, but you are my son, nonetheless. If you do not inherit the title, it will become extinct.”
And that was a worse fate than having an illegitimate child inherit an entire dukedom.
Jerome hardly knew the words to say. “Thank you, Fa—”
“Do not get ahead of yourself,” his father said in a gruff voice. “You must first marry a woman of noble birth. If you do not, then I will not ask the Prince Regent to smooth your way to inheriting the dukedom.”
Jerome glanced down at his father’s hands to see him gripping the railing so tightly, his knuckles turned white. He was quite adept at masking his feelings, something Jerome had both loathed and marveled at. To see the duke turn to him, his eyes narrowing into slits, Jerome instantly went on edge.
“Do you hear me, boy?” he growled. “You cannot inherit the title if you do not find a fitting wife. A wife that I will approve of.”
“Yes, Father,” Jerome said with a stiff nod. He tried to ignore the roaring in his head at the duke’s insistence. “I am an illegitimate son. I understand that you will not name me as your heir unless I find a woman of noble birth.”
The duke ran his eyes up and down Jerome, as
if gauging if he understood the seriousness of the situation. And he did. How could he not? For half his life, he’d known that he would never have a place in his world, despite being so close to it. Even though his father was a duke, his mother was nothing but a commoner. And it seemed commoner blood ran strong in situations like this.
A noble lady would help greatly. Perhaps the daughter of a duke, or even an earl. Someone who was more than fitting to stand as a duchess.
Jerome wasn’t hindered by his father’s condition. If he became the new duke, he would have to marry. It would not be so difficult, he believed, to find a suitable wife to please his father. He’d been doing very well pleasing him thus far, even if he would not say it. “Yes, Father,” he said.
Francis turned to him. He was leaning rather heavily on the railing, Jerome noticed, but he said nothing about it. “I hope you understand the severity of this situation,” Francis told him.
“I reckon no one else would understand as much as I do. You will not be disappointed.”
“I hope not.” With that said, Francis turned away, heading back into the bedroom. Now that he was no longer resting his weight on the railing, he stumbled a bit as he walked. Jerome trailed closely behind, but he didn’t dare to lend his aid. He knew that his father would not appreciate that in the slightest.
Somehow, Francis made it to the bed without collapsing. A faint sheen of sweat covered his forehead as he laid down, pulling the sheets over him. “Fetch my valet,” he ordered, his eyes fluttering close.
Jerome, even though Francis wouldn’t see it, nodded. Then, without a word, he left. Jackson was already making his way into the bedchamber the moment the door opened.
Jerome paused on the other side of the door for a few seconds, trying to process all that he had been told. It felt surreal to have the dukedom right at the tips of his fingers when for so long it had felt out of reach. Francis had no son, no close relative that could stand in place as a male heir. If necessary, Jerome would have been his only choice, and yet he had convinced himself that he would never be considered.
His face grim, he set off down the hallway. A fierce wave of determination came over him. His mind was whirring, his chaotic thoughts already fleshing out into a plan. Tomorrow night, there would be a ball at Rutherford Manor. Considering he was already acquainted with the family, he should take advantage of his invitation. Once he was in attendance, it should be a simple matter to find a decent lady who may serve as his future wife.
That grim expression gave way into a smile. He was being given a chance at the life he had always wanted. Jerome was not going to allow that chance to slip away.
Chapter Three
Louisa had very fond memories of Rutherford Manor. The first time she’d laid eyes on the lovely home, she’d been in awe of its structure, every inch of the surroundings bleeding wealth. She’d been but a child when she’d first come here, and had come again as an adult when the son of the Duke of Rutherford had married her dear sister Charlotte. Those memories evolved and grew every time she came to visit, and even more so when her sister had given birth to a son. It had always filled Louisa with such relief, and a touch of unease, to think that, had things gone differently, she might have been the one to marry Kenneth instead. They certainly would not have made such a good match.
Louisa didn’t think tonight would be one to add to those fond memories.
Music swirled overhead, chatter hanging low in the beautiful ballroom. Louisa stood as close to the refreshments table as she possibly could, taking in the intricately carved candles acting as centerpieces, to keep from looking at anyone else. She did not care to dance, and she knew that if she looked up, she might catch the eye of a gentleman who might take that as his chance to approach her. Louisa wasn’t in the mood.
In fact, she wished she was anywhere but here. She never enjoyed balls and would always use any excuse she could come up with in order to get out of attending. The very thought of dancing with another gentleman made her chest cave in with horror. She wanted to leave.
Then, as if by fate, she heard a familiar laugh drift over to her. Glancing up, Louisa spotted her beautiful younger sister, Selina, in the arms of a handsome gentleman. The smile on her face was as bright as day, her joy palpable. As she was whisked around to the music, Louisa thought she’d never seen her sister look happier.
Selina had recently turned nineteen and was enjoying every bit of this Season, feeling very confident now that her debut Season was behind her. She too had their mother’s golden blond hair and gentle blue eyes. But unlike Louisa, Selina had a happy spirit. She smiled easily and always took joy in the smallest bits of life. She was a ray of sunshine who could not be cowed into sadness. She was much stronger than Louisa, in that sense.
A tender smile touching her lips, Louisa watched her sister as she danced. This was the reason she’d attended in the first place. Even though Charlotte had begged her to attend, Louisa had not decided to give in until Selina had asked her to as well, claiming it would be enjoyable to attend a ball with her sister. Tereza, of course, had been terribly jealous.
“She is quite the sight, isn’t she?”
Louisa nearly jumped at the sound of Charlotte’s voice. Her sister had a knack for sneaking up on her. “She most certainly is,” Louisa agreed once her heart had settled. “I wonder if the man she is dancing with is worthy of courting my dear sister.”
Charlotte giggled and Louisa looked at her. Charlotte was only two years younger than Louisa, at two-and-twenty, but she could easily be mistaken as the eldest. Tendrils of her brown hair framed a wise face and brown eyes behind spectacles that missed nothing. She was the only one of the four daughters who had not inherited their mother’s features, and she seemed to enjoy that fact very much. It quite fit her bookish personality, which she’d been insecure about until she came to embrace it after her marriage.
“It almost sounds as if you wish to pull him aside and ask him what his intentions are,” Charlotte said.
“Is that so terrible?” Louisa asked, picking up a glass of wine. She sipped on it, hoping the movement would mask how uncomfortable she was surrounded by so many gentlemen.
“Perhaps coming from our father, it is not,” Charlotte told her. “But to hear you say it is a bit scary, I must say. You will certainly chase him away if you dare to do that.”
“If he is chased away by such a passive lady such as myself then he is no match for our sister.”
Charlotte huffed a laugh, rolling her eyes good-naturedly. “Passive, you say? Your very presence is intimidating, Louisa, as I am certain you are aware.”
That made Louisa smile. “Why, thank you, Charlotte. You do not know how much that means to me.”
“Oh, I know. Mother has told me what happened yesterday.”
Louisa slid her eyes over to the right, spotting her mother easily. She was surrounded by her friends, other ladies of the ton who had come to support their daughters. She seemed to be deep in conversation, fanning herself slowly as a slow smile stretched across her lips.
And, of course, her father was not far. He stood with his own friends, the other husbands and fathers. Louisa almost felt as if she could hear his hearty laughter from across the room.
“Is that so?” Louisa wasn’t surprised in the slightest. “And what did she say? I hope she was not too dramatic.”
“It depends on what you would define as dramatic.”
That told Louisa all she needed to know. “If you had seen that gentleman yourself, Charlotte, then you might have done the same.” Louisa paused, then shook her head. “No, well, perhaps not the same. But you would not be interested in the slightest, even if you hadn’t known Kenneth.”
Kenneth was Charlotte’s husband, who had once been a childhood friend. Louisa had known him since the two had developed a friendship, but rather than a friend, she’d always called him a familiar acquaintance. He’d always been Charlotte’s, in every sense of the word. It had only been fitting that they would fal
l in love in the end and start a family together.
“That gentleman is the Marquess of Myrtlebury,” Charlotte said with a sigh. “It would not have been so bad if you had at least known his title.”
Louisa hid a smile behind her glass of wine. “Did Mother tell you that as well? My, she certainly has a tongue on her, doesn’t she?”
“She is only worried for you, Louisa. As she should be.” Charlotte’s weary tone made Louisa’s heart pang for a moment. She wasn’t a stranger to her sister’s wishes. Even though she’d gone ahead and gotten a family of her own, she still worried so much for her older sister, when it should have been the other way around.
Louisa didn’t want Charlotte to worry. Just like she didn’t want Selina to think about anyone but herself tonight. Nor Tereza to care about the future of her elder sisters when she had her own future to dream about. Louisa wanted to do her duty as the eldest sister. But at the same time, it pained her that she couldn’t bring herself to.
