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

by Arietta Richmond

  “Yes, thank you Mr Perryman. Ladies, this way please.”

  Dobbs ushered them into the house, and Perryman turned and set off back along the street. The first thing that Marion noticed as she followed Dobbs along the hall towards what she presumed was the parlour, was the sound of children, little girls, if the high-pitched giggles were any indication. The sound confused her – surely, two Ladies of the ton would not be receiving them in a room full of other children?

  Dobbs opened a door, and announced them, waving them into the room. The giggling stopped, instantly, and three pairs of bright curious eyes met Marion’s. Daniel clutched her hand more tightly, staring at the other children.

  “Do come in, and take a seat.”

  The woman who spoke was obviously aristocratic, with silvered blonde hair, and friendly green-brown eyes. One of the small girls was sitting on her lap. Beside her on the chaise was another woman, of equally aristocratic appearance, who added her encouragement.

  “Yes, do please. We don’t stand on ceremony here. Although you may have to remove toys from the chairs before you sit.”

  A younger woman stepped forward, and cleared two chairs of toys for them, before turning towards the chaise.

  “Come Sylvie, you must let your grandmother speak with these ladies, without you on her lap.”

  The small girl pouted, but obediently climbed down, and went to play with the other children. The first woman spoke again.

  “I am Lady Pendholm, and this is Lady Farnsworth. The other young women here are Mary, Polly and Sally, each of whom has a child that is the result of the reprehensible behaviour of my now deceased eldest son, and Rose, who is Mary’s sister. It was my experience with finding and helping them, that led me to want to do more for girls in trouble, through no fault of their own. The Duke sent me a short message explaining your circumstances, and suggesting that you would be willing to help us with the poor girls that we are taking in.”

  Each of the younger women, dipped a quick curtsey to them, as their names were mentioned.

  “Oh, yes, we are most definitely willing to help, and most grateful to the Duke for the introduction.”

  As Jane spoke, one of the small girls sidled up to her, and reached out an exploring hand for hers. Startled, Jane clasped the tiny hand.

  Marion was overwhelmed. If she had heard aright, the elegant woman in front of her had just cheerfully acknowledged her son’s bastard children as her grandchildren. This was utterly beyond her experience. Neither woman had looked at all askance at Daniel, either. Could it be that they were genuine? She felt an immediate affinity for Lady Pendholm – there was just something about her that was welcoming and kind.

  “Mama… can I play with them?” Daniel was tugging at her hand, pulling her out of her shocked state.

  “May he?” Marion looked at all of the others in the room, not sure whose approval she was asking.

  “Of course!” One of the young women, Mary, Marion thought, came forward and held out her hand to Daniel.

  “What sort of toys do you like, Master Daniel?”

  “Blocks!” was his immediate reply, as he happily went with her to the corner where the little girls were playing. The child who had taken Jane’s hand dropped it, and followed him. Lady Farnsworth watched with approval, before turning back to them.

  “Now we can talk for a little, without so much interruption. They are delightful, but rather exhausting, aren’t they?”

  “Yes, I think that all small children are.” Marion smiled, her eyes on Daniel as she spoke. Somehow, her fear was receding.

  Without understanding quite why, she found herself feeling safe, here in this room full of women and children, where class distinction apparently did not matter.

  Lady Pendholm asked Rose to bring some tea, then spoke directly to Marion.

  “You look a little disconcerted, my dear. I suppose this is not the ordinary sort of afternoon tea you would expect from a Lady. I must admit to not caring at all for what is expected, what is proper behaviour. I am old enough to do whatever I like, within reason, and no-one is quite brave enough to censure me to my face. I love my grandchildren, no matter which side of the blanket they were born on. When I first found Mary, she was living with Rose, in a tiny bare room, and little Sylvie was close to starving in the middle of winter. I cannot allow other girls and their children to suffer like that, any more than I could let it happen to these girls.”

  “We can afford to help. I have no children myself, and I admit that our project has given me the chance to enjoy helping others’ children. The more that I learn of the terrible circumstances that the men of the nobility leave girls in, as if they were simply disposable, the more my blood boils with anger. I wanted to do something to help.” Lady Farnsworth spoke with a passion that emphasised the sincerity of her words.

  Marion hesitated a moment, unsure what to ask first, her mind tumbling with questions. In the end, she simply asked the first thing that came to mind.

  “How… how will you find the girls to help? How will they trust you?”

  Mary, placing a tea tray before them, answered.

  “We have all spoken to other girls we knew, from before the day when Lady Sylvia rescued us. And they have told others.”

  “And we have each asked all of our staff to tell their friends and families, as has the Duke. The girls may not trust us, for we are of the ton, but they will trust the girls, and our staff, because they come from their own world. It has worked well. The first four girls will move in to the next house tomorrow. They will need much help to adapt, to feel safe, and to understand how to go on.” It was very obvious that Lady Sylvia was excited at the prospect of seeing her plans begin to be fulfilled.

  Despite herself, Marion was excited by the idea. What might her life have been like, if there had been someone to help her, when Martin died?

  “And you want us to help them to adapt? To learn how to allow themselves to be cared for? To learn how to go on in even the edge of ‘polite society’? Perhaps to teach them to read and write, if they can’t?”

  “Yes, exactly. Many of these girls, whilst they may have worked as maids, have not been in positions where those things mattered – a scullery maid needs know little more than how to scrub a pot. I want to give them the skills to support themselves with better work, once they are healthy, and they know that their children will be safe and cared for whilst they are working.”

  Lady Pendholm, Marion though, was quite remarkably beautiful, when she spoke so passionately about her project.

  She could only hope that she might age so well.

  “I can do that, and gladly, for my mother made certain that I could read and write and do my sums. I even have a little of a few other languages.” Marion smiled at Jane as she spoke.

  “Perfect! I believe that the Duke has sent us a veritable treasure in both of you. And it’s good for the little ones to have a boy to play with. They will all learn from each other.” Lady Farnsworth sipped her tea, looking most happy with the world.

  They spoke for an hour or more, and Marion heard all about how Mary and the others had come to be there, not just from Lady Pendholm, but from the girls themselves. There could be no doubting their sincerity, nor the genuineness of all present. It would take her some time to truly accept, but it seemed that there were, after all, decent people amongst the ton.

  ~~~~~

  Upon arriving back at their house, Marion left Daniel with Abby, and, claiming tiredness, took herself to her room. She needed time to think through the events of the day.

  It had been agreed that tomorrow, the newly rescued girls would be brought to the houses, and settled in, given food, and time to get to know each other, and the small number of staff who would care for them. Then, the following day, they would be introduced to Marion and Jane, who would start to discover what each knew, and what they needed to help them best.

  The whole project excited Marion. If it were not for the ever-present fear that one of Ma
rtin’s old ‘friends’ might find her, she would have been very happy with her life.

  But the fear, and the need to keep her marriage to Martin, and her previous association with this house, a secret, wore on her, every hour of the day. It also puzzled her, the more she heard of the Duke, that he had not sought her, had not tried to discover her, in those terrible days after Martin’s death. For he seemed a genuinely good man – could it be possible that he actually had not known of her circumstances at all – not even enough to know where to start looking?

  There were moments when she wondered if her life was a tragedy suitable for the stage, or a farce of grand proportions. The thought brought a laugh – a laugh that was perilously close to hysteria.

  Charles sank into a chair, and Julian handed him a drink before dropping into a chair himself.

  “How can they have just disappeared so completely? They must be staying somewhere. God, why didn’t I make the time to get to that village just a few weeks earlier? In all of London, how will we find them now?”

  “Wareham, you’ve been searching for four years man! Don’t give up on me now. You have no idea how much better I feel, just for the information that you brought me. To know that she is alive, and that Martin had actually married her! We will find her. I won’t stop until we do.”

  “I won’t give up. I just… wish I’d done so many things differently.”

  “What’s done is done. Think about the future instead. I have been. I’ve set my legal man to setting up the paperwork. He’s making sure that Marion’s status as Martin’s wife is recorded in all the proper places. I’ll not have anyone disparage her again.”

  Charles looked up from his brandy, with a sudden smile, and Julian went on, speaking with great intensity.

  “And I’ve set up an annuity – for her, and the child. I have to believe that it’s Martin’s child – or perhaps that’s wishful thinking on my part.”

  “I think it is Martin’s child. From what the Innkeep in the village said, the child is about the right age. She’d been living there since almost the time Martin died, and he’d never seen her with a man about – he even speculated a bit about why a good looking young woman wouldn’t have a man by that age. Even with a child, he thought she’d have had no trouble finding a man to marry her.”

  “I hope you’re right. Regardless, she will have my support for the rest of her life, no matter what choices she makes. I never had the chance to get to know her, but… if Martin loved her that much, I must assume that she is eminently worth caring for.”

  “I didn’t see much of her either, in those few months before the damned duel, but she seemed good – kind – and it was very obvious that she loved Martin as much as he loved her.”

  “Tomorrow, I need to call on Lady Pendholm again – her charity project is coming along well, and we are meeting every few days. I just wish I could see a way to help her more. But before I make that call, I’ll get some Bow Street runners, or one of those ex-runners who does investigations for a fee, onto helping us find Marion. Maybe they’ll be more successful than the man Burrowes hired, or than we have been, so far. I have to believe that will happen.”

  “I pray that they will.”

  ~~~~~

  Julian had remembered, in the depths of the night, as is typical of memories returning, some passing comments from Lady Pendholm, about how she had found Mary, Rose and Sylvie. She had mentioned a Mr Starling – a retired runner who took on private investigations. She had praised him quite extensively. He scribbled a note to himself on a scrap of paper that lay on his bedside table, and allowed himself to drop back into sleep.

  Immediately upon rising, he sent Bradshaw to bring Burrowes to meet him. Burrowes was a little surprised at the urgency, but not at the hour – the Duke was a remarkably early riser for a man of the ton.

  “Burrowes, good of you to come so fast. I need you to arrange something for me. You are aware of my search for Marion – after all, you’ve been helping get the documentation together. So you know that I haven’t found her yet. I have concluded that I need more assistance with the search. I want you to find a Mr Starling – he’s an ex-runner who did some work for Lady Pendholm a year or so back. Get him working for us, on the search. Whatever it costs. Just get him started today.”

  “Yes, Your Grace. I will seek him out immediately. Err, you don’t happen to have his direction, do you?”

  “Unfortunately not. But perhaps Mr Swithin can assist you with that.”

  “An excellent idea, Your Grace. Thank you. I’ll take my leave and start on this immediately.”

  Once Burrowes departed, Julian, feeling more hopeful than he had for days, went to dress suitably for a visit to Lady Pendholm.

  ~~~~~

  Lady Sylvia was daydreaming. She sat by the window in her private parlour, the warm morning sun drawing glints from the remaining gold in her hair, and stared unseeing into the distance, her book forgotten in her lap.

  Soon, he would be here. She found herself, more and more often, simply stopping what she was doing and thinking of him. She was becoming decidedly attached to the man. No matter how often she told herself that it was foolish, that nothing could come of it, her thoughts stubbornly returned to him, in a way that had never happened with any man before.

  It was rather lowering to realise that she had been successfully married for thirty years, and never once managed to be as obsessed with her husband as she was with the Duke. Once William had died, she had expected to settle into comfortable old age. The adventures of the last few years, and this heart pounding, body warming excitement at the sight of a man had not been within the compass of her plans at all.

  Yet she would not change any of it. She felt more alive now than ever, especially this last month or two, since the great project came into being and, most importantly, she admitted, since the day that she had met the Duke of Windemere. Initially, she had thought that her reaction would fade over time, but, instead, it had intensified.

  Every time she saw him, she became, at least for a while, like a stammering green girl in her first season. It would be amusing, if it was happening to anyone but her. What was worst of all, was that she had not the slightest idea what to do about her feelings. Quite certainly, she could not speak to him of how she felt. He likely saw her as simply a partner in a charitable endeavour, a person of like mind about the world, but nothing more. He really should, as a Duke, be doing something about getting himself an heir, now that his year of mourning for his wife was past. Yet she had seen no sign of him considering such a thing.

  The foolish part of her hoped that he saw her as something more. The sensible part of her thrust that aside, and got on with life. One thing was quite certain – she could not give a man a child - even if she desperately wished it were different – she was past that age. So she must get past this foolishness, once and for all. If she could just work out how.

  There was a tap at the door, and Lady Farnsworth entered.

  “Good morning, my dear Sylvia – dreaming again?” There was good-natured laughter in her voice, but the comment still brought a girlish blush to Lady Sylvia’s cheeks.

  “Of course, I do my best planning when staring blankly at a sunlit garden.”

  ‘I’m sure that is correct. Will we be seeing His Grace this morning?”

  Lady Sylvia, embarrassingly, flushed even more at this question.

  “I believe so. He wanted to discuss how many more staff we will need, and when we will need them, to cope with the new girls arriving. I believe that he intends to pay for them, the dear man.”

  Lady Farnsworth nodded, and, as she went to speak, Clarick came to the door.

  “Yes, what is it Clarick?”

  “My Lady, Viscount Pendholm is here. He has come to town to meet with Baron Setford. I believe that Lord Setford will be arriving shortly. Which parlour do you wish to use, and which should I arrange for the Viscount?”

  “Charlton is here? How delightful! Do close the panels acr
oss the large parlour – we can each use one of the smaller rooms that creates. Now I must hurry down and speak to him before either of our other guests arrive. Dear Anna, do forgive me for rushing out on you like this.”

  Lady Sylvia sped from the room, and Lady Farnsworth followed her down the stairs at a more sedate pace, a smile of fond amusement on her face. A few moments later, Lady Sylvia swept into Charlton’s study, and unashamedly gathered her son into a hug of greeting.

  “Charlton, this is unexpected. How long will you be staying? Has Odette not come with you?”

  “Mother, I am delighted to see you in such good spirits.”

  Charlton almost laughed at her whirlwind appearance and flurry of questions – his mother was still, even at fifty, remarkably like her daughter was at nineteen.

  “I am only here for a few days, Mother. A few meetings with Setford, and I will be back to Pendholm Hall. Odette chose not to come with me for such a short stay.”

  “Oh, I had hoped to see her. Ah well. I have asked Clarick to pull the panels across the large parlour, and set each side for you and I to use. Lady Farnsworth is here, and we are expecting the Duke of Windemere at any moment, to discuss progress on our charity project.”

  “The Duke of Windemere, mother? I seem to remember that you did not hold that family in very high esteem.”

  Lady Sylvia flushed again at this – it was becoming a habit, and it was not a habit that she wished to keep!

  “Aaah… I admit that I did say, some years ago, rather uncharitable words about the Duchess of Windemere – she was a most unpleasant woman. She is more than a year in the grave, and I have been forced, by circumstance, to see that the Duke is a vastly different kind of person. He has been astoundingly generous in his support.”

  “And what is this charity project? I don’t believe that you have told me about that yet.”

  Charlton was amused, all over again. He so enjoyed talking with his mother, and, after some time away, he could see so clearly exactly where his sister Harriet had inherited her personality from.