Heir to the Duke (The Duke's Sons #1)

by Jane Ashford

  Violet hesitated. But she really didn’t know what else to say to Marianne right now. It had been the simple truth; she wanted to think. Marianne disappeared around a corner with a flurry of rose-pink skirts.

  Violet sighed. Moving more slowly, she returned to their lodgings and took off her hat. Then she sat in the parlor once more, the Regent’s envelope in front of her on the writing desk. An acute desire rose in her to ask Nathaniel’s advice. He always seemed to know exactly what to do.

  But he’d been so abrupt when he found her with the Regent at the ball. He’d said she should be able to take care of herself, which she ardently wished to do. As to how he might view Marianne’s situation… Years of her grandmother’s strictures shuddered through her. Violet didn’t want to inquire.

  He’d said she was thoughtful. And Marianne claimed that he looked at her in some marked way. Violet found she wanted him to continue to…look at her. She wanted him to admire her. Admire, respect, esteem…perhaps more? Violet was shaken by a shiver of…what? Hope? Excitement? She couldn’t risk upsetting the delicate balance of…whatever was developing between them. She’d have to figure things out for herself.

  But there was so much to consider. Freedom was far more complicated than she’d imagined when she’d chafed under her grandmother’s thumb. She’d thought it was…free. But it seemed to entail an ever-increasing burden of knotty issues and onerous obligations. Of course she wouldn’t want to retreat to her old life, but…

  Violet picked up the envelope and used a letter opener to slit the flap.

  “There you are,” said Nathaniel from the doorway.

  Violet jumped and shoved the note under her reticule.

  Coming farther into the room, Nathaniel noticed the convulsive movement of her hand and wondered what she was hiding. But he didn’t quite want to ask. “Can you suggest any fascinating games for girls?” he said instead. “Ages fifteen and thirteen,” he elucidated.

  “Games? Why would you want—?”

  “Don’t begin with me. A shopkeeper down the street already suspects me of dastardly deeds.”

  “What?” She looked completely befuddled.

  “Sebastian wants them.” Nathaniel found his brother’s letter and quoted, “‘books or games—or anything, really, however costly—that would absorb the attention of girls aged fifteen and thirteen.’” He folded the page again. “And before you ask, I’m certain Sebastian is not trying to seduce schoolgirls.”

  Violet looked shocked. “Of course I would never think… Who would do such a thing?”

  Nathaniel realized that he had outpaced his wife’s level of sophistication. And thank God for it. “Never mind. I can only conclude that Sebastian is referring to someone at Georgina Stane’s home.”

  “Perhaps she has younger sisters,” Violet said.

  “Of course. That must be it. I suppose they hang about and disrupt Sebastian’s…courtship.”

  “As they do,” she replied, smiling.

  Catching her meaning, Nathaniel smiled back. Violet’s young brothers had often been assigned to accompany them on walks or strolls in the garden, and they’d proved an active hindrance to any expression of affection.

  “We must help him,” Nathaniel declared. “What games did you like best when you were that age? At school perhaps?”

  “I was sent to a very strict school. We didn’t play games.”

  “Favorite books then?”

  “Well, we weren’t allowed to read novels. We did find one collection of old sermons in the library that was so outlandish we laughed ourselves into stitches.”

  “We?”

  “Jane and Marianne and I. We first met at school.” Indeed, they had been her only allies within the dismal halls her grandmother had chosen.

  “Marianne, who is now Lady Granchester?” Nathaniel asked. “Perhaps she would have some ideas?”

  “No!” The word came out too loud, propelled by the image of Nathaniel and Marianne engaged in conversation, after what had occurred with her friend today. “Her…her children are boys. And still very young.”

  Nathaniel gave her a quizzical look, then shrugged. He sat on the sofa and crossed one pantaloon-clad leg over the other. “The games we played at Eton were all some form of sport. Not likely to interest Sebastian’s pursuers. And they require teams, in any case.”

  “Did you like Eton?” Violet asked. She’d found school a trial, shut up in a place where discipline and morality had been considered far more important than learning.

  “I did. I was accustomed to a crowd of lively boys.”

  “And being the ringleader?” Violet continued. She wanted to learn everything about him. She longed to understand what he thought, how his mind worked.

  Nathaniel laughed. “No, no. Much more the…the sentry, who sees trouble rumbling down the pike and steers out of the way,” he replied.

  She liked the picture this conjured. “Did you play pranks like your brothers?”

  “Certainly not.”

  For a moment Violet worried she’d offended him.

  “My…exploits were far more ingenious.”

  Relieved, Violet laughed. “For example?”

  Her husband shook his head. “Sworn to secrecy, I fear. Until we reach decrepitude—at the advanced age of fifty—when all can be revealed.”

  “We?”

  “Swore a solemn oath,” Nathaniel assured her, blue eyes dancing.

  Violet could easily imagine him as a handsome youth, plotting and promising with his fellow students. “Well, then…what was your favorite area of study?”

  “Mathematics,” replied Nathaniel promptly.

  “Really?”

  “Is that so surprising? It was by far the most useful thing I learned.”

  “For keeping account books?” Violet asked. It didn’t seem like the sort of task a duke’s heir would do.

  He shook his head. “One needs to be able to check the tallies, of course, but I calculate other things. Like…last year, we planned the sequence of oak plantings.”

  “Sequence? What is that?”

  Nathaniel leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. “Oak beams need replacing every century or so. Do what you will, damp and insects damage one here and there. And there are many beams on the Langford estates. So I must see to it that when my great-grandson requires a sixteen-foot span, twenty-four inches on a side, he will have a suitable tree to harvest.” He gave a nod and then met Violet’s admiring gaze.

  And as they looked at each other, the atmosphere in the room shifted. Barring some unforeseen accident, his great-grandson would also be hers, Violet thought. The years spooled out before them—rearing children, seeing the next generation do the same, passing out of this life having left a legacy to the future. The connection stretched between them, a different bond from the soft intimacies of the bedroom, differently intense. She felt it like an invisible strand, braiding their destinies together.

  “And so we plant new stands of oaks at intervals,” Nathaniel finished, his voice a little thickened.

  Violet nodded. “I…I should like to see them,” she said.

  “We’ll ride out the next time we’re at Langford, and I’ll show you.”

  She nodded again. And then she didn’t know what to say. She was linked with Nathaniel for life, yet there were so many details she didn’t know about him. “So…you liked Eton but did not go on to Oxford?” She did know that, at least.

  He sat back, took an easy breath. “I saw no need. The things I needed to learn came with working on the estates. Randolph went up to be ordained as a clergyman, Alan to become a scientist. The rest of us had had enough schooling.” He paused as if struck by a thought. “Robert did consider university for quite a time. Perhaps he should have gone, with all this stuff he’s spouting about Akkadian.”

  “About what?” Violet had never heard the word.

  “Precisely.” He smiled at her confusion. “It is of no importance. And we have wandered from our original ta
sk. Distractions for young girls. To further Sebastian’s wooing.”

  “I’ll think of something,” Violet told him.

  “And buy it too,” he said. “You are a…more appropriate purchaser, apparently.”

  “Buy it too,” she agreed.

  Nathaniel eyed the corners of the crisp envelope showing beneath her reticule on the desk. Its hidden presence nagged at him. “Are you occupied just now? We might go out walking.”

  “I must…write a letter.”

  She didn’t seem very happy about it. Nathaniel wondered if her grandmother had fired off another salvo. But she said nothing further. And he would not stoop to press. “I won’t keep you then,” he said, rising to leave.

  When her husband’s footsteps had died away, Violet at last opened the letter from the Regent. It turned out to be a thick card rather than a folded page. Her hands trembled slightly as she read, and discovered that the much dreaded billet-doux was in fact a summons to a tea in support of a charity for indigent gentlewomen. As it was to be held by special permission at the Prince Regent’s pavilion, his household had issued the invitation. The ornate handwriting looked like that of a secretary. Various noble ladies were named as sponsors.

  Violet started to laugh. She’d worried herself into a state over nothing. Had she really imagined that the Prince Regent would pursue her? In writing, when he wasn’t thoroughly foxed? Hadn’t she noted the many far prettier, and more accessible, women around him? Really, the whole idea had been ludicrous. The quarry was her contribution, not her person.

  She reached for a pen to draft an acceptance. She would go to the tea and give generously to the cause, and that would be that. If only all her dilemmas could be resolved so easily.

  Ten

  At the next of Brighton’s twice-weekly balls, Violet kept an eye on the entry, even when she was dancing. For the first time in her life, she hoped to see her grandmother arrive, because her parents would no doubt be with her.

  Midway through the second set, all three came in. As soon as the music ended, Violet went over to greet them. She’d even worn a gown with a higher neck and demure sleeves to placate her family. But when she suggested that her mother might enjoy a turn about the room with her, her grandmother replied, “Nonsense.” And when, later, she asked her mother to go with her to get a glass of something in the refreshment room, her grandmother judged it, “A ridiculous idea.” Her mother might have protested or insisted, of course. But she didn’t. She never had, Violet thought, with a mixture of pity and frustration. Couldn’t Mama make a tiny effort? But she would not be angry with her. No one knew better than Violet how futile it was to battle her grandmother.

  She gave up and accepted a solicitation to dance, plotting other ways to separate out her mother. As she moved down the line with her partner, she noticed Marianne standing at the side of the ballroom, following her with questioning eyes. Violet began to feel hunted. Her grandmother stared at her from one side, her friend from the other—crossed gazes drawing a bead on her, practically palpable in their intense desire to influence her conduct. When the dance ended, she turned away, eager to escape, and saw Nathaniel. He’d been dancing as well. She walked over to him. “Can we go outside? It is so hot.”

  “Of course.” He offered his arm.

  They strolled out into the night air, laden with the scent of the sea. It was a bit damp, but Violet didn’t care. There was a glorious absence of pressure.

  “Is something wrong?” Nathaniel asked.

  She wouldn’t mention Marianne, but… “I’m still puzzling over my cousin Delia, and the different ways we are treated. I thought if I could talk to my mother, alone…”

  He nodded. “Good strategy. Attack the weakest link.”

  A giggle escaped Violet, even through her frustration. “I tried to detach her, just for a brief conversation, but Grandmamma doesn’t allow it. And Mama gives me no help at all.” She heard the touch of bitterness in her voice.

  “A ball is perhaps not the ideal—”

  “I know.” Violet walked faster in her vexation. “But otherwise they’re all at home together. Mama never goes out on her own.”

  “Never?” Nathaniel sounded incredulous.

  She stopped and looked up at him. “That is strange, isn’t it? She can’t wish to have Grandmamma always with her. Well, I know she does not. I can tell that much. But why didn’t I ever notice that she is always accompanied?” Violet made a dismissive gesture. “Because it’s difficult to see what’s right in front of your nose from childhood.”

  After a short silence, Nathaniel said, “Perhaps I could help.”

  She turned to him. “How?”

  “I could get your grandmother out of the way, so you have a clear field.”

  “We can’t kill her,” Violet pointed out.

  Nathaniel laughed. “No. I could take her on an outing, though.”

  “An outing.” For some reason, Violet’s mind conjured an image of her husband trying to tow a huge naval frigate with a rope over his shoulder. “You would do that for me?”

  “Yes.”

  Violet swallowed to ease a suddenly tight throat. He said it as if it was simple. Could it be? “Papa might still…” But her father rarely took any initiative at home. “I can probably handle Papa.”

  “I’m sure you can vanquish the lesser foe.”

  “It’s not funny,” replied Violet, responding to his tone.

  “I know it’s not. Or, rather, I try to understand. The thing is…” He hesitated as if seeking the right words. “My brothers do some outrageous things. Well, only think of the wolf skin.”

  They exchanged a reminiscent smile.

  “They sometimes go too far, but they’re never mean-spirited,” Nathaniel continued. “I suppose I can’t quite…comprehend, in the end, a family that would hurt each other.”

  Violet thought of her contentious girlhood, and Marianne’s marriage. “I love that about your family.”

  The word “love” seemed to hang in the air between them. To Violet, it felt almost tangible. She wanted to say it again, to explore all its ramifications. And she felt terribly shy of that single syllable. It seemed, at one and the same time, full of promise and peril. She swallowed again and said, “Where would you take Grandmamma?”

  “That is the question. What would tempt her? What sorts of activities does she particularly like?”

  Did her grandmother like anything? Liking was not an emotion Violet associated with her. “Tyrannizing,” she said finally.

  “It’s too bad that Grand Duke Nicholas has gone home then. We could call on him and discuss Russian autocracy.”

  Violet burst out laughing—a spontaneous, full-throated laugh that seemed to lift a weight from her chest. “Oh, you are beyond anything!”

  Nathaniel gazed down at her, a smile slowly blooming on his face. “Why?”

  “You take Grandmamma lightly.”

  “Well, it is easier for me.”

  “Perhaps so. But it makes everything seem less…portentous.”

  “Portentous?” he repeated with open amusement.

  “Yes. And…possible.”

  They stood close together in the street, eyes locked. Nathaniel’s head bent, and Violet waited breathlessly for his kiss. But a rowdy group of young men came out of a tavern farther down the street, joking and shoving one another, and the spell was broken. As the jostling crew approached them, Nathaniel turned and guided her back toward the ball. “We haven’t established what outing might tempt your grandmother,” he said after a moment.

  “No.” Violet hadn’t quite regained her equilibrium. “She… I don’t know, Nathaniel. All she likes is stating her opinions.”

  He considered, then stopped walking as if struck by an idea. “I have it. I’ll ask her about books and games for girls. We must be right—that Sebastian wants them for his fiancée’s sisters. I’m sure she’ll find it a perfectly natural question. And then I shall beg her to come with me to buy them. The propriet
ies, you know.”

  Violet was aghast. “She’ll choose dreadful, edifying things.”

  “Which will serve Sebastian right for pushing the task off on me.”

  “Nathaniel…”

  “We’ll find other things later,” he assured her. “But I don’t think your grandmother will be able to resist the temptation to ‘advise.’”

  “And waste your money,” protested Violet. But it was half-hearted.

  “We’ll donate her choices to poor orphans.”

  Violet snorted. “I see no need to further oppress girls who are already orphans.” She paused just outside the door of the inn. “It could work. But what if she refuses?”

  “I shall exercise all my charm to convince her.”

  “Ah. It’s settled then.”

  “You doubt my capacity to charm her?”

  “On the contrary, I was quite sincere. You are…exceedingly charming.”

  Their eyes met again as they moved together into the doorway, unconscious of anything but each other. The portal opened, and two other couples came out. They stepped aside to let them pass. And Violet wished that they were headed in the opposite direction, toward their lodgings and a chance for some delicious privacy.

  * * *

  When they returned to the ballroom, it seemed as if Marianne had been lying in wait. She approached them at once and said to Violet, “May I speak to you?”

  With a polite bow, Nathaniel walked away.

  Marianne pulled her into a quiet corner. “You haven’t told him?” she whispered.

  “I said I wouldn’t tell anyone,” Violet replied, a little offended.

  “It’s just that you looked so cozy,” her friend said wistfully. “As if there could be no secrets between you.”

  Violet was briefly gratified—except that all her recent transactions with Marianne were such a secret.

  “I need to see Daniel tomorrow. Will you go with me? Please?”

  “Marianne…”

  “There is no one else I can ask,” she insisted. “You are my only friend.”

  “What about your family?”

  Marianne grimaced. “They’re so proud of my brilliant match they won’t hear a word against Anthony.”