Chapter 4 #2
“While they may be children, they are the future of the Spruce name. Said name will find its premature end if they continue behaving despicably,” Kenneth said gravely.
He turned away from his brother, walking toward his massive desk.
Wasn’t it the plan for the day, anyway? He was supposed to tend to matters of the estate before he found his brother on the floor.
“I cannot run the estate while I am also playing nursemaid to your offspring, while you guzzle bottles of brandy, gin, or whatever else. I am only one man, and I am reaching the end of my patience.”
The butler, Langdon, entered the room. The door was still open, anyway. Kenneth exhaled in frustration. More likely, some of the other servants had heard the commotion in the study. It would not have surprised them, though.
“Your Grace, several letters arrived for you in response to your advertisement,” Langdon declared, after bowing, leaving a stack of correspondence on Kenneth’s desk.
“Thank you, Langdon,” the Duke murmured as he thoughtfully went through each of the missives.
He knew some of the names, but the others would turn out to be little mysteries he would figure out. More likely, he would read the first few sentences of each and discard the most vapid ones right away.
For some reason, though, a woman’s face appeared in his mind’s eye.
It was that infuriating woman in the park.
If he had to admit it to himself, she was infuriating because she was alluring.
He was not supposed to notice those things.
Perhaps her drenched clothes were the ones that caught his attention.
“Is it true, then?” Malcolm broke into his reverie. Kenneth could now confirm that the likes of the lady at the park had upturned his world.
“Mm,” was his only reply to his brother. Then, he turned to his butler. “I do not plan on reading all of these love letters, Langdon. Give me three that will be worth my while.”
His butler was always efficient. He handed the Duke three letters and said, “These ladies seem to have met your requirements, Your Grace.”
“Do tell me that you are in jest,” Malcolm exclaimed, laughing cynically. “Are you now going to interview women for hire? It is preposterous even for you. What kind of woman will even write to you with this kind of advertisement?”
“You know me, Malcolm. I cannot bother attending balls and soirees. The most efficient and fastest way for me to find a wife to take over Emily and Alexander was this. Be gone now, and wash away the stench of debauchery. I have letters to read.”
“Cold-hearted bastard,” Malcolm muttered, finally trudging out of the room. “As if any woman could love you.”
“Love is mere fiction,” Kenneth replied, already opening the first letter in one clean slice.
Left alone in his study, he sighed. Around him was nothing but a pile of letters and the ringing silence he had grown so accustomed to. And yet, for the first time in a long while, the silence felt louder than usual.
The woman from the Serpentine returned to intrude on his thoughts.
Kenneth did not know her name, and he would not attempt to discover it. He had enough chaos in his life.
He shook away the last vestiges of her image, hoping that he would not have to see her again. He turned his full attention to the first letter:
My Dearest Duke,
Your Morning Post advert was the answer to my dreams. I have always longed for a man of your stature to consider me as his wife. My heart raced when I realized that it was nobody else but you who made the request, and I believe we are a match made in—
“Argh,” Kenneth grunted. He could no longer read the rest of the first letter-sender’s thoughts. Did she think this was a romantic connection? He did not even know her; he tossed the letter into the wastebasket before reading her name.
“Next,” he grumbled.
My Dear, Noble Duke,
I am a poetic and sensitive woman. The world is too harsh, and your letter seems to be the answer to my pra—
“These are love letters, Langdon,” he said, tossing the second letter onto the first and fixing his butler with a hard stare.
“Is this truly the best you could find from that pile? I am offering nothing more than a transaction. They should understand that I have no patience for a duchess who only knows romance books and needless pining.”
“My sincerest apologies, Your Grace. These were truly the most sensible ones,” Langdon replied. “There is one more.”
Kenneth turned his attention to the third letter. He did not feel hopeful now, but perhaps he could skim each of the other letters for anything useful. He had spied the names of daughters of barons and baronets, wealthy businessmen, and even earls among the pile.
Still, he would give Langdon’s choices a chance.
The third letter was plain. There was no perfume or hints of silk and flowers in this one.
It, however, was written on a cream-colored parchment, one sturdy enough to be kept for years.
The handwriting was steady and elegant. There were no girlish flourishes and hoops. Whoever wrote it was well-educated.
Your Grace,
Your request in the Morning Post was accompanied by reasonable requirements.
Your household necessitates a clear mind and a steady hand.
After all, you require someone who will be your lifelong partner in managing your household and all its responsibilities.
I am acquainted with duty and discretion, and am prepared to offer both should I be selected.
Humble and practical, the letter made Kenneth’s breath hitch. He had to read it again. What were the odds? He had fully expected the pile on his desk to consist of nothing but perfumed declarations.
He had to see who wrote it.
Miss Madeline Quinten.
The name meant nothing to him, but at least it meant she was not one of those ladies fawning at him at balls.
“I think we have found our duchess, Langdon,” Kenneth said, setting the letter down. “This is the most sensible and matter-of-fact response in the entire pile. What do you know of Miss Madeline Quinten?”
Langdon hesitated. His usual neutral mask slipped momentarily.
“Your Grace, the lady’s family reputation is not the best. People say that —”
“I did not ask for gossip, Langdon. You know well I do not partake in it.” Kenneth rose from his chair and moved toward the window. “I will choose Miss Madeline Quinten as my duchess. See to it.”