Finding the Duke's Heir: Sweet and Clean Regency Romance (His Majesty's Hounds Book 7)

by Arietta Richmond

  “I just… it felt right. And I wanted us to have some quiet time, so that you could tell me more about all of this. Why are we here, in such a big house? What work must we do for your friend? Who is your friend? We are being treated as guests, not servants, so I don’t understand what is expected. Please, tell me the whole of it.”

  Jane poured herself another cup of the excellent tea, and set about explaining everything that she knew about the Duke’s charitable project, and what he hoped they could do.

  Once Marion got over the shock of having it confirmed that her mother’s ‘childhood friend’ was, indeed Martin’s father, the more she heard, the more she wanted to help, but the more confused she felt. For the man who would undertake such a project seemed a far different man from the way that Martin’s father had seemed, four years ago.

  “Mother, that all sounds wonderful, and of course I want to help teach and care for girls in need, and their children, but… why would a Duke want to do such a thing? From what I have seen, titled gentlemen are more likely to take advantage of a girl than to help her.”

  “You are right. That is the way it usually is. But… Julian is different. He always was. Even when we were children, he was kind – to everyone. As to why he wants to do this, now – he told me that, since he lost his son four years ago, and then his wife not much more than a year ago, he has been lost, looking for something to do. He didn’t say so, exactly, but I think that he needs a purpose to go on. It’s as if he’s trying to make up for something, somehow. But I’ve no idea what.”

  ‘But perhaps I do.’ Marion kept that thought to herself. ‘Could it be that the Duke regretted how he had allowed her to be treated? And his wife, dead! One should not feel pleased with a death, but Marion found, to her shame, that she was. The Duchess had not been a nice person at all. Oh, now she was even more confused than before!’ She decided that she would let everything be, and think on it again in the morning.

  ~~~~~

  After visiting Daniel in the nursery, where she found him happily telling stories of imaginary adventures to Abby, Marion asked to be shown to the rooms she had been given. As she had half expected, Perryman showed her to her own previous rooms.

  “Thank you, Perryman.”

  “My Lady…”

  “Miss, Perryman, Miss.”

  “Yes Miss. You will find, in the dressing room, some garments – which I believe will fit, and suit you very well.”

  He managed to keep a completely straight face whilst making this statement, and neither asked any questions, nor made further comment. Marion struggled to retain her composure, torn between tears and laughter. In the end, she merely nodded her head, and stepped into the room. He closed the door gently behind her.

  She wandered, bemused, about her rooms. Almost nothing had changed. They had kept her things, kept everything as it had been. ‘Why? Had the Duke had no use for this house? Why would he leave it here, untouched and empty, for so long? Why not sell it? None of this made any sense whatsoever.’

  She pushed the thoughts aside, unpacked her small valise, and freshened herself up. If she was to live here again, she would appreciate the small luxuries whilst she could.

  Dinner left her feeling exhausted. She felt that she was an actress on the stage, reprising a role that she had played years before. Nothing seemed real – except Daniel’s genuine delight in the house, the food (which was better than they had been able to afford for some years) and especially the staff, who indulged him happily.

  Always, there was a bubble of hysterical laughter close to escaping her control. How on earth would she manage this, day after day? After dinner, once Daniel was settled for the night, she allowed herself the luxury of simply closing the door to her room and collapsing onto the bed. Minutes later, there was a tap at her door. She struggled to her feet, and opened it.

  “Good evening my… Miss, would you like some assistance with preparing for bed?” Abby smiled, her expression hopeful.

  Marion simply shook her head. She was not ready to explain anything, and wanted nothing more than to be alone at that moment.

  “No thank you Abby. What I would most appreciate is for you to go on caring for Daniel, as you have already done so well. I am so glad that he has taken to you.”

  “Yes Miss.” She hesitated a moment, “He’s a lovely child. Looks so much like his father.” Before Marion could say anything, Abby blushed, afraid that she had been too bold, then curtseyed and sped down the hallway towards the nursery rooms.

  Marion shut the door, turned the key, and sank onto the bed, a bitter tasting laugh on her lips, and tears on her face.

  As the door closed after Jane, Julian turned back to his study, his mind filled with memories. Jane had been a good person as a child, bright and cheerful, always helpful – just like her mother had been. He truly regretted having missed the chance to see Nanny Sutton one last time before she died. He hoped that Gisella had visited her, as well as sending charity food baskets!

  That Jane had fallen on such hard times was terrible – he was glad that he could help. And Jane would be an asset to their project, for she was quite well educated, and would be able to teach the poor girls. He presumed that her daughter, too, would be better educated than most women – Jane would have made sure of that. The most amazing thing about the day, however, was the sense of true friendship that still existed between them, even after so very many years. It left a warmth around his heart that he had missed, without even knowing it.

  But now, he needed to focus on other things. In a few minutes, young Wareham would arrive.

  He had been surprised when the young Viscount’s request for a meeting had been delivered, but he saw no reason not to meet with him.

  Last he’d seen the man, he’d been a young buck with no title, a third son, running with the pack of young idiots that had been Martin’s friends. How things had changed in the last few years. Now both Wareham’s oldest brother, and their father, were two years dead - in a carriage accident, if he remembered aright, the middle brother was Duke, and Wareham was currently his heir.

  Why the man should seek him out now, he didn’t know. Perhaps something to do with their estates? One of his brother’s estates lay quite close to Windemere Towers – what was it called? Ah yes – Springmarsh, that was it.

  Regardless, Wareham had a good reputation. He’d only ever spent that one fateful season in town – mostly kept to himself, and cared more for estates than the fripperies of society – which was an attitude that recommended him to the Duke. Martin had liked him – more so than the other young fools, which, Julian had to admit, also influenced his opinion.

  Julian tidied the papers on his desk, and, a few moments later, Bradshaw tapped on the door.

  “Viscount Wareham, Your Grace.”

  Julian indicated a chair.

  “Have a seat, Wareham, can I offer you a drink?”

  The late afternoon sun slanted through the window, sparking very dark red highlights in Wareham’s almost black hair. The young man’s expression was thoughtful.

  “Yes, Your Grace, I believe that, for once, I would find a brandy rather useful.” Wareham’s voice had an edge to it. Julian wondered why.

  He walked over to the sideboard, and poured them both a drink, before they each settled into one of the comfortable chairs near the fireplace.

  “So, Wareham, what brings you here today?”

  “Your Grace, I have an apology to make, and an admission.” Wareham looked acutely embarrassed, a little flushed and nervous with it.

  “An apology? An admission? Of what, and what for?” Julian was startled, to say the least. In that instant, he became quite certain that this had nothing to do with either the Windemere or the Melton estates.

  “I must ask you, Your Grace, to be patient with me, as I explain. I fear that this is rather a long story.”

  “Certainly – take your time.” Obviously, it was a day for others to unburden themselves upon him, Julian thought, with wry amu
sement.

  “My story starts when I first met your son, Your Grace. He and I rapidly became close friends. I respected him – his attitude to others was rather less arrogant than that of many of the young men around us. I found, that year, that I do not enjoy London society very much. The shallow fops who care nothing for their estates do not impress me. Martin was different. The fact that he chose Marion, when he could have had any of the young women of the ton, was another thing that set him apart. He chose for love, and stood up for his choice.”

  Julian’s hands clenched on his knees, his glass forgotten on the side table. Wareham didn’t notice – didn’t seem to be seeing the room at all, so caught up was he in his memories.

  “He hated the way that the Duchess treated her, that one time they met. But he would not be swayed from her. He bought her a house, you know, or at least, he said he was going to. When he said such things, those young fools mocked him, spoke badly of Marion and called her ‘his lower-class mistress’. That’s what started the duel. I tried to dissuade him, but I failed. He asked me to be his second – what could I do but agree? He was going to do it, no matter what anyone did or said.”

  He paused, and took a rather large gulp of his brandy.

  “The fatal blow was almost an accident. His opponent had been slashing wildly, and managed to catch Martin off guard. Martin slipped on the grass, and the point went home. He bled so fast… I tried to stop it, but it was impossible. He was gone before the doctor reached us. But he did do one thing before he died. And here is where my admission and apology begin.”

  “Yes?” Julian went and brought the brandy decanter back to the table, and refilled Wareham’s glass.

  “He lay there bleeding, and he reached into his breast pocket, and pulled out a sheet of paper. He thrust it into my hands, and he said ‘There’s the proof. She’s my wife, no matter what these fools think. I took her to Gretna, two months past. Look after her – please.’ And his eyes closed, and he was gone. I was stunned – I hadn’t known he’d done it. But I said ‘yes’ as he breathed his last breath – I promised him. And I don’t break promises. But… it’s been four years, and I’ve failed. I couldn’t find her, no matter how I searched.”

  “Proof?” Julian’s voice shook and, suddenly, he was the one who needed the brandy.

  “Yes.” Wareham reached into his inner pocket, and withdrew a folded square of oilskin, then carefully extracted a folded sheet of paper from it. The paper crackled softly as he held it out to Julian.

  “Here, take it. It should always have been in your possession. I am so sorry, I feel such a fool. But I was proud – I wanted to do what Martin had asked – by myself. I didn’t want to show it to you, until I could bring Marion to you, with this. For then, I hoped, your Duchess would not have been able to harm her – you would have protected her. But I never found her. For four long years I have searched – every tiny clue, every slight possibility – all to no avail. Until last week.”

  As Wareham spoke, Julian had been staring at the paper he had been passed. There was no mistaking it. It was a signed declaration, by the man who had officiated, that Martin and Marion had been married in Gretna Green – two months before his death. The paper was crumpled, and the edges were smeared with what he suspected was Martin’s blood, but the words were clear. Then Wareham’s last few words penetrated his dazed brain.

  “Last week? Are you saying… are you saying that you’ve found her?”

  “Found, and lost her. I overheard a chance remark, a while ago, from some of the farmhands at Springmarsh. About a woman, her unmarried daughter, and the daughter’s child. I realised I’d been too narrow in my thinking. I’d searched for a woman alone – not one with another woman, or a child.”

  “A… child? Are you saying…?”

  “Yes. It seems that Marion has a child. I traced them to a cottage in a small village. The maid who opened the door confirmed their names, but said they’d left, but a few days before – sold the place, and gone. The Innkeep in the village could tell me they’d taken the mail coach to London – but not where they intended to go. I followed them to town, but I’ve had no luck in tracing them. They left the coach where they were expected to, and just disappeared! So – I’ve swallowed my foolish pride and come to you – so very much too late, but at least I’m here. Now you know the truth. And maybe, if you help me, we can find her, still, amongst all the tangle that is London. I hope that you can see your way to forgive me, one day.”

  Julian took another rather large swallow of brandy, his mind spinning. If Marion had a child… was it possible that it was Martin’s child? Could he have a grandchild?

  “Of course I can forgive you man! I have been just as remiss myself. Even without the kind of motivation you had, I should have sought Marion out, right at the beginning for, surely, she grieved my son as much as I did, perhaps more. And yes, he bought her a house – a house I’ve owned for four years, and didn’t even know about until a month or so ago! And no, before you ask, it contained no useful clues. I searched.”

  The room blurred around him, as tears filled his eyes. So close! He would find Marion, he would work with young Wareham – and perhaps, just perhaps, they could both expiate their guilt in the matter.

  “Your Grace, how should we search next?”

  “We’ll find her. I’ll hire half of Bow Street if necessary, but we’ll find her. Go home for now Wareham, and rest. In the morning, we’ll set things in motion.”

  “Yes, Your Grace. And thank you for your forbearance. I hope never to be such a fool again in my life.”

  ~~~~~

  At Barrington House, the staff were startled by Charles’ appearance with hardly any luggage, and his statement that he would be staying for an extended period – weeks or, god forbid it be necessary, months.

  He sat and wrote to Hunter, telling him all the truth of it, and begging his forgiveness for abandoning the running of the estates to him, until such time as this was over. And he wrote a short note to Maria, perhaps inappropriately, which he sent via Hunter, begging her forgiveness for his long absence.

  Duty completed, he took himself to bed, praying that they would find Marion soon.

  ~~~~~

  Marion had barely slept, but she forced a smile onto her face for Daniel’s sake. Seated at the breakfast table, she ate sparingly, but appreciatively, watching as Daniel demolished the abundant food. Whatever else came of this, she was glad that there was enough food to keep a growing child healthy. After a short while, Perryman came into the room.

  “Excuse me ladies, if it suits you, as the Duke requested I do, I have arranged for you to meet Ladies Pendholm and Farnsworth this afternoon, when they will be visiting the house a few doors down the street. The staff there will let us know when they arrive, and I will escort you to the door.”

  “Thank you, Perryman. That sounds most suitable.”

  Marion’s voice was steady, but the fear rose in her again – what would these society women think of her? No matter how generous they were with their charity, surely they would still bear many of the same attitudes that she had seen in the Duchess. But she had no choice. For Daniel’s sake, somehow, she needed to make this work, to make herself acceptable to these women, so that she had a place to live, and way to earn enough to support them.

  Perryman nodded, and left them.

  Later that morning, once Abby had again taken Daniel to the nursery rooms to play, Jane and Marion sat in the beautiful parlour.

  “This feels so strange! Even when your father’s business was doing well, we only had one maid. I’ve never in my life had so little to do as it seems I have here. I will be glad to meet the Ladies this afternoon, and get a better understanding of the work that they will wish us to do.”

  “I suspect that you will come to enjoy having others to care for you, mother.” Marion’s tone was a little wry, but she did not elaborate on her thoughts.

  “Perhaps I will.”

  “Before we meet the Ladies th
is afternoon, I must ask you, mother, how much you told the Duke of our circumstances.”

  “Very little, my dear – I don’t think that I even mentioned your name, or my married name, for that matter. Obviously, I told him that I had a daughter, with a child, but we did not really speak for very long – he is a busy man. And, I must admit that I suspect I was not very coherent at the time – I was so afraid, when I knocked on his door, that he would not remember me, or that he would not help us. I probably rambled terribly.”

  “Oh mother, I doubt that! You are usually very clear in what you say. Still, I feel most uncertain about everything. Will he have sent a message to Lady Pendholm and Lady Farnsworth, informing them of our existence? Or will Perryman’s arrangements have come as a surprise to them?”

  “I really don’t know. I suspect he will have informed them. He seemed exceedingly organised.”

  “I hope that this afternoon goes well. This all seems too good to be true, at present.”

  “I’m sure it will be alright. Julian is a good man.”

  Marion nodded, certain that her mother believed that. She wasn’t yet ready to be so trusting herself. She wasn’t sure that she ever would be.

  Her past haunted every room of this house, and reminded her, every step that she took, that the aristocracy were not necessarily good people at all.

  ~~~~~

  Marion kissed Daniel on the cheek, before lifting him into her arms. He squirmed, and demanded to be put down.

  “I can walk!”

  “So long as you hold my hand, yes, you can walk.”

  They followed Perryman down the street, past houses where workmen were putting the finishing touches on the renovations. Marion was more nervous with every step she took. She wished, wholeheartedly, that she had the same confidence in the situation that her mother had.

  They turned up the steps of a plain and well-kept house, and Perryman knocked on the door. Moments later, it was opened by a cheerful looking footman.

  “Good afternoon Mr Dobbs, may I present Mrs and Miss Canfield, and Master Daniel. I believe that the Ladies are expecting them.”