Enchanting the Duke: Sweet and Clean Regency Romance (His Majesty's Hounds Book 5)

by Arietta Richmond

  There were many tears, and many long conversations, both reminiscences and planning of the future, there was, a week or so later, the formal reading of the will. A will that no one was likely in any way to contest, there being no other relatives beyond the girls and Cousin Mathilde, to care about it. Both Cordelia and Georgiana were stunned at the size of the dowries settled upon them, and at the number of properties they had actually been given. Miss Millpost nearly fainted when told the size of the annuity granted her, to be paid regularly, from the time that Georgiana married.

  There was only one surprise in the entire content of the thing – a clause that Georgiana rather resented, no matter how much she had loved her Papa. Simply put, it stated that the control of the properties and funds left to her would not actually pass to her until she married. Until then, The Duke of Rotherhithe would manage them in trust for her.

  It was determined that Cordelia and the Duke could not, now, marry before the following May, even with the Baron’s wishes about a shorter period of mourning.

  Neither of them was happy about the delay, but there was little choice.

  It was agreed that the girls would live at Casterfield Grange, with Miss Millpost as companion, and with an estate manager, appointed by the Duke, to help them. Georgiana promised herself that, no matter what anyone else thought proper, she would learn every tiny thing she could about the management of the estates, as soon as possible. Papa had left them to her, and it was right that she honour him by learning how best to care for the home where she had grown up.

  The Duke promised to visit very frequently, as much as possible, around keeping his own estates in order. The wedding, when it finally came, was to be held at Canterwood Park, and the Duke assured the girls that they would be welcome to reside there in the last weeks before the wedding, to make all arrangements easier.

  It was all rather a whirlwind of change, and Cordelia and Georgiana both felt helplessly swept along by events.

  ~~~~~

  The chill of winter was sharp in the wind on the day when six men stepped onto the London docks, and back into civilian life for the first time in many years.

  After nearly a decade of living closely with each other, saving each other’s’ lives, and caring only for survival, with no need to deal with polite society, they all felt somewhat unmoored from reality, as they breathed the London air.

  They had agreed, while aboard the ship, that this first night, they would take rooms in a better quality of Inn, together, before braving separation and reunion with their families on the morrow. As they stepped away from the dock, however, a gentleman stepped down from a large, plain carriage, and walked towards them. He was of average height, with mid brown hair, and dressed in plain, but elegantly tailored clothing of the best quality. His piercing grey eyes assessed their appearance, and he smiled.

  “Well met, gentlemen. I am glad to see you all returned, whole and hearty. Are you ready to take up the reins of your daily lives again?”

  One of the men stepped forward, his hand outstretched, and returned the smile of greeting.

  “Baron Setford! What brings you to greet us? I had thought, with us resigning our commissions, that we might well expect not to be seeing you again.”

  “Ah Hunter, or, as I should say now, I suppose, Your Grace, did you really think to be rid of me so easily?”

  “Perhaps not, had I thought on it at all.” Baron Setford laughed heartily in response to the other man’s words.

  “Well then, be glad I’m here, for you’ll travel in comfort now. Gather your belongings, and lets away. The coach is big enough for all of us, and I’ve rooms already arranged for you at a cosy inn – not too upscale – you’ll not be tripping over members of the ton until you’re ready. We’ve a few things to discuss, before you scatter to live your ordinary lives.”

  ~~~~~

  Two hours later, in the private parlour of a quality Inn on the fringes of the fashionable area of London, Baron Setford sat with the six, who were now washed, shaved and dressed in rather cleaner and newer clothes than any they’d had access to for years, and addressed himself to the substantial supper laid before them.

  Setford had not only provided the rooms, but the clothes, which he had miraculously managed to deliver in exactly the correct sizes and styles to suit, as well as the services of a valet, one Bulwick, to assist them. A valet who was truly scandalised at the state they were in, and determined to remedy it, at once.

  As the day became evening, and the evening deep night, Setford told each of them what he knew of the state of their families, the events of recent times in London, in the ton and more, giving them the gift of re-entering society prepared to deal with it. When he came, last, to Gerald Otford, he smiled, and produced, from the pocket of the overcoat that he had laid casually aside, hours ago, a rather large envelope, sealed with a most impressive seal. Setting it on the table beside him, he proceeded to ignore it as he spoke, causing all of them to cast curious glances at it.

  “Gerald, m’boy, you’ll be glad to hear that your father is well, no matter what he may claim, and still as well liked as Squire in the parish as always. All of your family are well, in fact, and remarkably unremarkable in every way. I’d be inclined, at risk of offending you, to call them boring.”

  Gerald’s face fell at Setford’s words. The thought of settling back into his family, amidst the bucolic splendour of the Gloucestershire countryside, of having his father and older brother attempt to direct his life made him shudder. He would go quite mad (well, more so than the dreams and memories of things that he had done during the war already made him). But he had no idea what else he would do.

  “However…” Setford’s eyes lit with an almost mischievous spark as he paused a moment, “I have here something that may save you from that fate rather nicely.”

  He passed the envelope to Gerald, and sat back, an almost smug look upon his face, waiting.

  Gerald, knowing well that anything presented like that by Setford had an equal chance of being simply positive, or positively dangerous, looked at the envelope in his hand as if the thing might bite him. After a few minutes Charlton spoke up, in a smooth voice with an edge of laughter in it.

  “For God’s sake, Gerry, open the damn thing. We’re all dying to know what’s in it!”

  Gerald allowed himself to look at it, closely, for the first time. The seal was large, and, now he looked, immediately recognisable.

  “The Prince Regent?” There was disbelief in his voice, but Setford nodded.

  Breaking the seal, Gerald unfolded the paper, and pulled out the other sheets enclosed. As he began to read the top one, his eyes widened in shock, and he swallowed, his breathing unsteady all of a sudden.

  Quickly he read the other sheets, and then re-read each one. The tension in the room stretched thin, as the others realised that something very significant was happening in front of them. Eventually Gerald looked up at their expectant faces, and spoke.

  “It would seem that, through some unknown mechanism,” he glanced rather pointedly at Setford, who looked totally unruffled at the implication, “the Prince Regent has become aware of my… services rendered… for the crown during the war. He has chosen to reward me, for some reason known only to him. With a title, and estates, it seems.”

  After a moment, Hunter nodded, smiling and asked, “Who have you become then? How should we address you now….”

  “It seems that I am now Gerald Otford, Baron Tillingford, and I am the possessor of a number of estates, including something called Tillingford Castle, in Berkshire.”

  The others applauded, and raised their drinks in a toast, and the evening descended into tale telling and merriment, as the reality of being home in England, and safe, began to settle into their bones.

  Setford watched them closely, and saw the moment of disappointment, almost bitterness on Raphael’s face. Raphael Morton was the only other Hound without a title. And, it seemed that, as Setford had suspected, even being rich as
Croesus, from the mercantile empire that his late father had built, did not quite remove the bitterness of being an untitled Cit in a world of titled men.

  Well, time would see about that. For now, they needed to take back their lives.

  ~~~~~

  Before Christmas, as the others each worked to find their feet in society again, Gerald travelled to Berkshire and began the process of transforming himself from a quiet country Squire’s second son into a man of power and authority in society. It wasn’t easy, and he spent most of his time feeling spectacularly like a fraud. But at least it minimised the time he need spend stultifying with his family.

  Some time in London, and a few evenings with the other Hounds, around the end of January, eased the transition. The others promised to help him navigate the deep waters of the ton, and laughed with him about the odd things found in very old country houses.

  In mid-February, Setford visited him, unexpectedly, and suggested, quietly, that there were some people he should meet. Intrigued, Gerald asked why.

  “I expect by now you’ve learned, from the staff at Tillingford Castle, how the title and lands came to be available for the Prince Regent to grant them to you. What you may not know, is that the previous Baron had two daughters, and a few friends, me amongst them, who cared a great deal about what became of his heritage. I’d like you to meet his daughters, so that they can see what sort of a man now walks in their father’s shoes.”

  Gerald’s stomach suddenly churned. From what he’d heard of the previous Baron, there was a lot to live up to – how could he possibly seem enough, in the eyes of the man’s daughters? Still, how could he not agree?

  Christmas passed quietly at Casterfield Grange, the joy of the season dulled by the aching emptiness of the old Baron’s absence. As January became February, Georgiana immersed herself in estate management, farming strategy, financial planning and everything else required to maintain a property well.

  The estate manager appointed by the Duke, at first hesitant about involving a sixteen-year-old gently reared lady in such messy matters as cattle breeding and cropping, was soon won over by her obvious intelligence and plain speaking, as well as her complete lack of such ladylike habits as fits of the vapours. Georgiana was made of sterner stuff, and he respected it.

  The Duke visited often, and the love he felt for Cordelia only grew with every visit, as did hers for him. Georgiana still regarded them with some bemusement, but had begun to admit, in her heart of hearts, that perhaps being loved with such sincerity would not be a bad experience after all. If she must marry to claim her inheritance, then she would wish for a love like theirs.

  The Duke had informed them, when he had visited shortly before Christmas, that the Prince Regent had, as they had expected, granted the title and lands of Tillingford to another man. A war hero, from all reports, a man who was young for the honour, but had provided such service to the crown that he was worthy of being rewarded in such a way.

  The girls had been curious, but, so soon after their father’s death, unable to imagine greeting another as ‘Baron Tillingford’. The Duke had let the matter drop, but wondered how they would feel in a few months’ time. Hence, when Baron Setford sent a message, in early February, suggesting that he bring the new Baron Tillingford to Casterfield Grange, that the girls might meet him, and be at peace with knowing how well their father’s heritage was cared for, he had cautiously raised the subject again.

  Cordelia had paled, and sat silent for some time. Georgiana had looked more considering, a light of irrepressible curiosity in her eyes. Eventually, Cordelia came to a decision.

  “My dear Philip, I believe you are right. I think that I would like to meet this man, that the crown has found worthy of filling my father’s place. It would allow me to go more easily forward into our life together if I know that my father’s work is honoured, and the tenants that he cared for so well will be treated as they should be.”

  Georgiana nodded.

  “I too would like to see him. With all that I have now learnt about the management of estates, I am greatly concerned for the welfare of the tenants of the Tillingford estates, even if they are no longer ours.”

  “It’s settled then. I will arrange it. I believe that Baron Setford will escort him here, and introduce you.”

  ~~~~~

  So it was that, one clear frosty day in late February, with their mourning period nearly half done, and Cordelia’s wedding no longer seeming so impossibly far distant, they waited nervously in the front parlour.

  Cordelia, unable to help herself, was peeking out through the curtains, much to the Duke’s amusement, when an elegant carriage came into view, passing between the winter bare trees that lined the driveway, revealed as if by magic as the midday sun burnt off the last of the drifting mists of morning. She dropped the curtain and turned back to the room, suddenly unsure of the wisdom of this meeting. But it was too late now.

  “They are here.” She was chagrined to discover that her voice shook as she spoke.

  The Duke rose, and offered her his arm, indicating that Georgiana should come to his other side.

  “Let us greet them in the foyer, ladies.”

  He led them from the room.

  Moments later, the sound of carriage wheels on gravel was followed by a firm knock upon the door. Garrig opened it, on his most pompous ceremony as butler, and there was a moment of complete silence.

  In the doorway, beside Baron Setford, stood an unassuming gentleman – well dressed, in a quiet way, handsome, with strong cheekbones and distinctive deep blue eyes, and thick dark blonde hair which was already curling a little in escape from the structured styling that his valet had obviously attempted to impress upon it.

  It was instantly obvious to Cordelia that he was as nervous as she was. She couldn’t blame him, she supposed, this must be just as strange for him as for them. The moment passed, the gentlemen entered the foyer, Garrig closed the door, and introductions proceeded. Baron Setford bowed.

  “So lovely to see you again, Ladies. Lady Cordelia, Lady Georgiana, may I present Lord Gerald Otford, newly Baron Tillingford.”

  Gerald bowed over each Lady’s hand, then turned, enquiringly, towards the Duke. Setford continued.

  “And this is Philip Canterwood, the Duke of Rotherhithe, Lady Cordelia’s betrothed.”

  “Delighted, Your Grace.” Gerald’s bow showed exactly the correct degree of deference.

  The Duke smiled broadly, as they moved into the parlour.

  “It will take me a while to get used to calling you Tillingford, I’m afraid. I knew the old Baron for more than twenty years, so the idea of someone else with the name is odd for me.”

  “That’s completely understandable, Your Grace, perhaps you would find it more comfortable to call me Otford?”

  “Thank you. An excellent idea!”

  The tension in the room became obviously less at this exchange, and, as they all settled into chairs, Cordelia rang for refreshments. Conversation was initially rather stilted, until Gerald asked the question most dear to his heart at that point.

  “Ladies, Your Grace, may I ask, if it’s not too personal, that you tell me something of my predecessor, of his wishes for his lands, and any plans that he may have had for the estates, which were cut short by his most unfortunate demise?”

  A look passed between the Duke and Cordelia, but, before she could begin to speak, Georgiana spoke instead.

  “My Lord, I believe that, at this point, I am best placed to answer that question. Oh, I know it may seem strange to you that a young Lady of my age should say so, but I have, since my father’s death, put all of my attention into learning the management of my estates, and discovering what father had planned, and why. Whilst I have focused mainly on Casterfield Grange, amongst his notes and the records there has been much to see of his management of Tillingford.”

  Gerald, fully aware, after years at war, of the intelligence and capability of a determined woman, accepted her at her word, ea
rning himself Georgiana’s eternal respect. For the next few hours, the conversation flowed freely, as they discussed the people and lands of the Tillingford estates, and the previous Baron’s policies and attitudes.

  Finally, as the dusk closed in outside the windows, the conversation died down. They looked at each other, startled to find the afternoon gone, and smiled in unspoken accord.

  Cordelia rang for more refreshments, and sat, feeling more light of heart than she had since her father’s death.

  “Lord Otford, I must thank you for coming. And you, Baron Setford, for introducing us. I freely admit to you that I was most nervous about this meeting, yet now I find myself fully at ease. I am more grateful than you can know to find that you are a man who can so willingly respect my father’s wishes, and who will treat his lands and tenants with the care that they deserve. It is more than I had hoped for. This has been a wonderful afternoon, and I hope that you will see fit to visit us often in the future. Let this be the beginning of a firm friendship.” Cordelia’s voice was warm and sincere, and Georgiana nodded her agreement.

  “Indeed, Otford, this has been an excellent afternoon. Might I suggest that we would be delighted to see you at the celebration of our wedding, in May?”

  Gerald found himself agreeing to the Duke’s suggestion, and bemused and amazed by the whole experience, took his leave with courtesy, and followed Setford to the carriage. He was stunned to realise that the women genuinely considered him a worthy successor to their father. Him, the man who had done such terrible things during the war, all in the name of keeping their country safe. He could not fathom it, how he could be that terrible man, and the man that they saw, all at the same time.

  Deep in thought, he leant back against the padded carriage seat and pondered. Setford, knowingly and wisely, let him be in silence.

  The weeks before the wedding, with the girls and Miss Millpost staying at Canterwood Park, had been hectic, and rather eventful, but the day itself dawned clear and bright, the warm spring sunshine and the scent of flowers on the breeze adding to the beauty of the moment.