If Blackmer was right, soon his younger brother, Michael, might be the master of the estate. Stephen had long since accepted that his brother or his brother's son would probably be the next duke, but he had thought that would be years in the future. Decades.
His brother would make a just and capable duke, because he also knew his duty. But Michael had always hated Ashburton Abbey. Given what he had suffered here as the family scapegoat, Stephen couldn't blame him, but it meant that Michael would surely continue to live at his much loved Welsh estate. The abbey would be silent and empty, waiting for some future generation to take pleasure in the ancient stones, in the imposing great hall and the peaceful cloister garden.
His anger again erupted into rage. All of his life, Stephen had done his duty, striving to master his responsibilities, to be worthy of his position. He had excelled in both athletics and academics at Harrow and Cambridge. He had consciously tempered the arrogance his father considered suitable to a Kenyon, for his own belief was that a true gentleman had no need of arrogance or boasting. He had treated his wife with consideration and respect, never reproaching her for what she was incapable of giving.
He had always played by the rules—and for what? For what?
Violently he swept his arm across a graceful side table, sending china ornaments and fresh flowers crashing to the floor. He had lived the life ordained for him, and it had been no life at all. Now that he was finally in a position to reach for a richer existence, his time had run out. It wasn't fair. It bloody wasn't fair.
With the long wars over, he'd been planning to travel, to see Vienna and Florence and Greece. He had wanted to do foolish things for no other reason than because they gave him pleasure. He'd wanted to learn if he was capable of passion, and perhaps take another wife who would be a companion instead of merely a perfect duchess.
He swung about, half-suffocated by his anger. Though he had no intention of discussing his condition, such news would not stay secret for long. Soon there would be curiosity in people's eyes they studied him and wondered how much longer he would last. Worse, there would be pity. His neighbors would whisper when he entered a room. His valet, Hubble, would go around with tears in his eyes, making a bad situation worse.
For the first time in his life, Stephen yearned to escape Ashburton Abbey and everything it represented. He paced across the room. Though he was surrounded by people, there was no one to whom he could unburden his soul. At Ashburton, he was "the duke," always calm and detached. But now, he felt a desperate desire to be someplace where he was a stranger while he came to terms with Blackmer's crushing diagnosis. He wanted to be anonymous and free, even if it was only for a few weeks.
Well, why not? He stopped pacing and thought about it. Nothing was stopping him from leaving. He could go anywhere he chose, at any speed he wished. He could stop at village fairs and admire the pretty girls. Stay at inns that his servants would consider beneath their dignity. And August was a lovely time to ride through England.
This was his last summer.
Gut twisting, he went into his bedroom and jerked open a drawer, yanking out a couple of changes of linen. Since he would go on horseback, he must travel light. How did average people get their laundry done? It would be interesting to find out.
The door opened and his valet entered. "I heard something break, your grace." Hubble halted, his eyes widening at the disarray. "Your grace?"
Stephen straightened from the pile accumulating on the bed. Since Hubble was here, he might as well be put to work. Stephen could be on his way that much sooner. "I'm going on holiday," he said with private irony. "Pack my saddlebags."
Hubble regarded the clothing doubtfully. "Yes, sir. Where are we going?"
"We are not going anywhere. I am going alone." Stephen added a well-worn volume of his favorite Shakespeare to the growing pile.
The valet looked baffled. He was a competent and good-natured man, but he'd never understood Stephen's antic streak. "But who will take care of your clothing, sir?"
"I guess I'll have to do it myself." Stephen unlocked a desk drawer and took out a fistful of money, enough for several weeks. "It will be quite educational."
Hubble visibly winced at the thought of how badly his master would be turned out. Forestalling the inevitable protest, Stephen said sharply, "No arguments, no comments. Just pack the blasted saddlebags."
The valet swallowed. "Very good, sir. What sort of clothing will you require?"
Stephen shrugged. "Keep it simple. I don't intend to go to any grand balls." He lifted his gold card case from his desk drawer, then dropped it in again. Since he wouldn't be traveling as the Duke of Ashburton, there was no need for calling cards.
Then he sat down and wrote brief notes to his secretary and steward, telling them to proceed as usual. He considered writing his brother and sister, but decided against it. There would be time enough for that later.
As the duke wrote, Hubble packed the saddlebags. When he finished, he asked in a subdued voice, "Where shall I send urgent messages, your grace?"
Stephen sealed the last note. "Nowhere. I don't want to receive any messages."
"But, sir... " Hubble started to protest, then quieted when his master gave him a gimlet stare. He settled for saying, "How long will you be gone, your grace?"
"I have no idea," Stephen said tersely. "I'll come back when I'm ready, and not a moment before."
Beginning to look frantic, Hubble said, "Sir, you can't just run off like this!"
"I'm the most noble Duke of Ashburton," Stephen said, a bitter edge on his voice. "I can do any damned thing I want." Except live.
He slid his arm under the bulging saddlebags and lifted them before remembering something else that must go. There was just room to add Blackmer's jar of pills.
Then he spun on his heel and headed for the door. He didn't know how much time he had left, but he intended to enjoy every minute of it.
Mary Jo Putney is a graduate of Syracuse University with degrees in eighteenth-century literature and industrial design. A New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today bestselling author, she has won numerous awards, including two RITA's from the Romance Writers of America and the Career Achievement Award for Historical Romance from Romantic Times. Though most of her books have been historical, she has also published three contemporary romances. Her growing list of Young Adult novels are published under M J Putney. Ms Putney resides in Maryland with her nearest and dearest, both two- and four-footed.
Visit her website at www.maryjoputney.com
Table of Contents
Cover
Prologue
BOOK I
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
BOOK II
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Epilogue
Historical Note
Excerpt from THUDNER AND ROSES - Book 1 in the Fallen Angels Series
Excerpt from DANCING ON THE WIND - Book 2 in the Fallen Angels Series
Excerpt from PETALS IN THE STORM – Book 3 in the Fal
len Angels Series
Excerpt from ANGEL ROGUE – Book 4 in the Fallen Angels Series
Excerpt from ONE PERFECT ROSE - Book 7 in the Fallen Angles Series
Meet the Author
Shattered Rainbows: Book 5 in the Fallen Angels Series Page 43
