The Duke: A Standalone Royal Billionaire Novel

by Laurence, Selena

  "Oh, now, now, your ladyship." The woman hushes me. "Don’t you fret, you’ll scare the wee kitten that came along with the breakfast."

  I stare at her, unable to answer, because I’m in bed, nearly naked, and there is a plump Scottish woman holding a tiny tabby cat in one hand and acting as though it’s perfectly normal to be in someone’s room first thing in the morning when you don’t know them.

  "Wh-" I have to clear my throat. "Who are you?"

  "Oh, I’m Deena, the housekeeper," she says cheerfully, plopping the kitten down on the bed. The little thing walks up my legs and makes itself at home on my lap. I look down into its green eyes surrounded by all that grey striped fur.

  “Hello there,” I say softly. It meows at me in the tiniest voice ever, then begins to purr while I scratch its head.

  Deena starts working on the tray she’s set on the nightstand — pouring tea, buttering a scone — which I have to say, smells delish.

  "Did Win — the Duke — tell you to come in here?" I ask, taking the cup of tea she hands me as if we do this every morning.

  "Aye," she answers. "He said you’d be right tired this morning, so he thought you might prefer breakfast here in your room."

  I get a funny warm feeling at Winston — Win — being so thoughtful.

  "Well, okay then." I take a nice long sip of the tea and sigh with pleasure. I’m not a big tea drinker, but this is the perfect temperature, and it has just a touch of milk. I need to tell Darnell to make it this way. It’s pretty yum.

  She settles the tray on my lap, moving the kitten to one side. The sleepy little thing doesn’t seem to mind.

  "And the kitten?" I ask as I pick up a warm buttered scone and take an enormous bite.

  "Oh, the wee thing was out back of the garage—" She pronounces garage like "gare-edge" and it makes me smile.

  "You don’t know where he came from?" I take another huge bite and moan at how freakin’ amazing it is.

  "No, but his Grace said you might like it, so here it is."

  I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face. Winston sent the kitten to me. And he told them to give me breakfast in bed. A girl could get used to this. It’s like being in a Jane Austen novel.

  “So do we keep him?” I ask, watching the little thing stretch out to get more comfortable.

  “Certainly, if you’d like, Your Grace.”

  I realize that I’m already sort of adjusting to the whole Your Gracing business. At home it would be completely ridiculous, but maybe because they’re all so matter of fact about it, I hardly notice.

  I look down at the kitten. “I’d like,” I say. “Do we have food and litter boxes and all that stuff?”

  “I’ll send the young man who does the gardening out for the supplies,” Deena says, bending over and patting the kitten on the head. She’s kind of rough with him, but he doesn’t seem to mind, so I restrain my maternal impulses.

  “I should name him,” I add.

  “Of course,” she answers. “Whatever you’d like.”

  I munch my scone and watch the little guy—at least, I guess it’s a guy. Honestly, I can’t tell the difference between boy and girl cats. It’s not as clear as dogs and humans. But I’m going with my gut and it says boy. I need to call Darnell and ask him for a good name. He named my goldfishes, Scarface and Soprano. It’s sort of a tradition.

  "Now," Deena says briskly, walking to the other side of the room and opening the curtains a little more. "You’ll need to be ready for the car to take you to the lawyer’s in forty-five minutes. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

  I swallow my food quickly. "No, no, this is wonderful, thank you so much."

  "Of course. I’ll let you know when the car is ready."

  As she moves to the door, I ask, "Is His Grace in his room?" I ask. I should probably check with Winston about the appropriate clothes to wear, since he’s so picky about that stuff.

  She looks a little uncomfortable then, her cheerful face becoming blank.

  "No, ma’am," she answers.

  "Oh, could you have him come up, then? I need to ask him something."

  "I’m so sorry, ma’am, but His Grace has already left the house."

  Oh. He did? Maybe Winston runs or something in the mornings. That would fit. All the type A rich business guys hit the gym or the trails first thing in the morning, don’t they?

  "Um, ok. Will he be back to get me for the meeting?"

  "No, ma’am, he said he’d meet you there. Murdoch knows where to take you."

  "Well, if Murdoch is here to drive me, who’s driving the Duke?"

  "That would be Ms. Jessa, Your Grace," she answers quickly before scrambling out the door like the coward she is.

  18

  Winston

  Jessa is perfect. Her hair, her clothes, her manners. She’s managed to charm the proverbial pants off my grandfather’s old attorney. It’s taken a lot of the pressure off me. I’ve been able to sit back and gather my thoughts while she entertains the old dog.

  I have to admit that I wasn’t thrilled to see Jessa at the front door first thing this morning. I know my mother sent her, and I’m not interested in being manipulated by the woman who could barely find time to holiday with me in between boarding school terms. However, as I watch her pour tea for the man who will either defend my inheritance or not, I have to admit I’m glad to have her here.

  "Your Grace?" The lawyer’s secretary steps into the room. "Her Grace has arrived."

  "Very good," the attorney says. "Send her right in."

  I see Jessa stiffen, even though the smile stays frozen on her face. Now is when things become dicey, and I don’t want to sour the attorney’s jolly mood.

  "Jessa, I’m wondering if you could help me with something while we meet?" I ask, standing in the hopes she’ll follow. I can see the rebellion on her face, but she’s far too polite not to do as I suggest.

  "Of course," she answers curtly before turning her glowing smile on the lawyer one last time. "It’s been such a pleasure meeting you," she tells him. He guffaws and flushes like the old fool he is before I lead her out of the conference room. I see Katherine just turning the corner down our hall and grab Jessa by the elbow to yank her the other direction. I’m sure Katherine sees our retreating backs, but I can’t worry about that now.

  "What are you doing?" Jessa grits out between her teeth.

  "Just give me a moment," I tell her as we wind our way through the back corridors of the lawyer’s offices. I sigh in relief as we finally come to the door of a stairwell. I open it, then stop once we’re in the stairwell itself.

  Jessa glares at me. "You’re hiding me," she accuses. "You didn’t want her to see me!"

  That’s not it, not really. I think some part of me feels guilty for being here with Jessa this morning. I shouldn’t. It’s not like we’ve been having sex—or anything remotely like it. We grabbed coffee, chatted about mutual friends, and then sat in the lawyer’s office while he rambled on about procedure and Jessa took tea with him.

  And it’s not like Katherine and I have a real marriage. The contract says I can’t engage in sexual relations with anyone else—and neither can she—but that doesn’t mean I can’t spend time with an old friend…or an old fiancée.

  No, the main reason I wanted Jessa out of there is so the lawyer doesn’t see the contrast between her and Katherine. Some part of me feels guilty for that, as well, but it’s simple fact—Jessa is made for this world, Katherine is not.

  "I’m not hiding you," I tell her. "I’m simply trying to smooth over an awkward situation. The lawyer needs to accept my marriage as legitimate and having you there staring daggers at her won’t help that cause."

  She snorts in derision. "As if anyone is going to believe that marriage is legitimate no matter who else is in the room."

  Something inside me flares in anger and I snap back at her. "No one asked you for your opinion. In fact, no one asked you to be here at all."

  I see a m
oment of hurt cross her face, but she recovers almost instantly, giving me a cool stare down.

  "You didn’t seem to mind me being here until she showed up. Haven’t I been helpful to you this morning? Haven’t I proven that I can still be a good friend."

  I’m assaulted by guilt then, because I allowed her to take me in hand this morning. I rode with her, chatted about some old friends, and used her as a shield against the lawyer. Then I tell her she’s not welcome.

  "You’re right. You’ve been a big help, and I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful." I scrub a hand through my hair.

  "But what?" she asks, sliding closer to me, raising all my warning flags.

  "But it’s not appropriate for you and I to discuss my relationship with Katherine. I value your friendship. But that’s all it can be—all I want it to be—friendship. I’m not going to discuss the marriage with you, and I’m not going to discuss Katherine with you, and I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t speak disparagingly of her. She’s here in good faith, helping me through this, as I hope you are, as well."

  I spot a small pout about to begin, but then she seems to shake it off and takes the last step toward me. I’m backed against a literal wall, nowhere to go. She pushes up to her tiptoes and presses her lips to the corner of my mouth. I hold my breath, afraid to move a centimeter for fear of encouraging her—because no matter how attractive she is physically, I’m not entirely sure I find her all that attractive in any other way at this point. On top of that, I made a commitment, and I don’t go back on those. I’m married to Katherine, whether it be for a day or a year. I won’t disrespect her so long as that is the case.

  "I won’t mention her anymore," Jessa whispers alongside my ear. "Because I know she hasn’t any importance in the long run. I was here before her, and I’ll be here after. You and I have an unbreakable bond, Win. No American child can threaten that."

  Then she turns on her heel and click clacks away down the stairs.

  I don’t waste time trying to analyze her speech, just move as fast as I can to get back to the lawyer. Outside his door, I take a deep breath, let it out slowly, and remind myself that I am the rightful heir, my marriage is legal, and it would take a hell of a lot to keep the inheritance from me. All I have to do is be confident, cooperative, and get out of town the minute this nonsense is over.

  "Well, there he is!" the lawyer cries out as I open the door. My gaze takes it all in, Katherine is dressed in the tightest, skinniest jeans I’ve ever seen, but paired them with an emerald green silk blouse that drapes across her chest, not a single wrinkle or smudge on it. Her feet, which are currently swinging gently from her perch on the edge of the lawyer’s desk, are clad in a pair of leather heels that match the blouse. She wears one large silver cuff and a silver necklace, along with a silver belt buckle.

  She’s smiling and laughing, but as she turns her gaze to me, those lively eyes grow cold, and her smile fades. She immediately hops off the desk, standing stiffly as I enter the room and shut the door behind me.

  "Yes," I answer the lawyer, "here I am."

  "Well, just in time," he answers, walking around from behind his desk.

  "Oh?" I ask, my gaze darting between Katherine and the solicitor.

  "Yes. Your wife was just filling me in on how you ended up married to one another.

  19

  Kat

  I see the look of panic on Win’s face and I can’t help but get some satisfaction out of it. He’s terrified I’ll tell the lawyer the real story of our two-day-long marriage.

  And I should. He’s earned it. I saw him sneaking her — Jessa — out of the office as I was coming in. I can’t help but wonder what the lawyer thinks of that? But maybe it’s perfectly acceptable for rich royal dudes to have mistresses. I know for a fact it’s not acceptable for them to pay women to marry them to inherit money, however.

  “Really?” Win asks as he shuts the office door behind himself. “How we ended up married?”

  I give him my best stare down, then turn and smile sweetly at the old dude with all the paperwork. “Yes, as I said, we met when he caught me yelling profanities at the hockey game.“

  “I don’t think he really wants to listen to all that,” Win interrupts. “Why don’t we get down to signing papers and taking care of the business?” He walks purposefully to the conference table and pulls out a chair, looking encouragingly at me.

  “I actually found it quite fascinating,” the lawyer says. “I doubt any other Duke in Britain met their Duchess in such a colorful manner.”

  I turn my phony smile on Win and see him grow pale.

  “Yes, well...”

  “And then to have sent her roses and champagne after the game to apologize for your short temper. I must say, you really went all out."

  Winston’s eyes grow wider, and I smirk before casually strolling to the conference table. Instead of sitting in the seat he’s holding out for me, I choose one across the table.

  "I wasn’t impressed, however," I say as the lawyer grabs a handful of expensive-looking pens and follows me. "I sent it all back. I really thought he was the most narcissistic, arrogant prude I’d ever met." I glare at Winston when the lawyer isn’t looking.

  "So, how did he win you over?" he asks, looking up at me.

  I smile serenely. "Who says he has?"

  The lawyer laughs uproariously, and I smirk at Winston. He glares back before clearing his throat and suggesting again, in that pompous way he has, that we get down to business.

  * * *

  It takes over an hour for the lawyer to go over the late Duke’s wishes for his funeral, and explain the assets of the dukedom — hint, there are a shit ton — including the one that I’m now supposed to be in charge of, the Duchess’s Foundation. Yes, apparently I have my own foundation, started by Winston’s grandmother, and designed to be handed down from Duchess to Duchess, just as the Ducal businesses are handed down from Duke to Duke.

  And then it’s all over, and I find myself in an elevator with Win. I guess since Miss Fancy Accent had to slink away, he’ll be riding home with me.

  "Who ran the Foundation after your grandmother passed away?" I ask as we plummet toward Earth in a metal box — did I mention I’m not a fan? If we weren’t on the thirtieth floor and I weren’t wearing heels, I’d have done the stairs in a heartbeat.

  "My grandfather had various family members take turns filling my grandmother’s spot on the board of trustees, and there has always been a director to run the staff and programs."

  I look at the list of programs funded by the Foundation that the solicitor handed me.

  "It looks like most of these programs are right here in London."

  He glances at the list over my shoulder. "Yes, I suppose they are."

  "But aren’t you the Duke of Surrey?"

  The elevator chimes our arrival on the ground floor and I bolt out the doors as soon as they open, breathing a silent sigh of relief.

  "Yes, you have the title correct," he answers, sarcastically.

  "It just seems that if you’re the team captain there, then you should be giving out the awards to the guys on your own team, not someone else’s."

  He strides along next to me as we head across the marble floor of the lobby and out the big glass doors to the curb where his car waits.

  As Murdoch opens the door for me, I hear Winston say, "It’s complicated, and you don’t need to worry about it. It’s run for five years without a Duchess to oversee it, no need to rock the boat now."

  It shouldn’t hurt my feelings, but it does. I didn’t know what to expect when he suggested this arrangement, and it’s been a whirlwind three days, but when I commit to something, I try to do my best, even if I sometimes don’t know what that means.

  I think Winston’s idea of what that means is for me to look the part and act the part, but not actually do the part. I also think Winston is a big hot jerk.

  "No need to rock the boat?" I ask as we settle into the backseat of the Rolls. "Is that
because you don’t think I’m capable of helping with the Foundation? Or because you think Jessa would do a better job?"

  Win clears his throat awkwardly. "I deserve that. I realized when you arrived this morning that I had made a tactical error."

  "Is that what you call it?" I feel my skin flush with the anger that’s boiling up. "A tactical error? I call it making your wife look like an idiot in front of the lawyer and all the staff at your house."

  "Now, Katherine—"

  "Don’t call me that," I warn. "You don’t get to have it both ways — call me Katherine, but treat me like Kat. I’m willing to change in order to be what you need — dress the part and talk the part, but then you have to return the favor. Start acting like a Duke instead of a douche."

  He stares at me for what feels like hours but is probably fifteen seconds. Darnell says I have no sense of time and being around Winston makes me lose whatever sense I do have.

  "While I appreciate your position," he says stiffly, "you must understand that I can not hand over my grandmother’s foundation to just anyone."

  "I wasn’t asking you to hand it over. In fact, I wasn’t asking for anything. I was simply trying to show some interest, be polite. You know, those things people who can’t buy their way into everyone’s good graces do?"

  After that, Winston is silent, and when we get home, I go straight to my room.

  He doesn’t say another word to me.

  20

  Winston

  "Oh, there you are, darling," my mother says as she blows into the library where I’ve been brooding for the last hour and a half.

  "Hello, Mum," I mumble as I buss her on the proffered cheek.

  She sets her designer handbag down on the desk and plants her hands on her hips.

  "How did things go at the solicitor’s?"

  "As expected. All the assets are in reasonable shape, grandfather didn’t want anything terribly unusual for his services, and the lawyer seemed to quite enjoy Katherine."