Chapter 4
Four
Tucked deep in the Scottish hills was the one residence belonging to the Duke of Aylton where his wife had never come.
Unlike his other residences, this small hunting box had no formal name.
Staffed only with a cook, her son who acted as a groom and man of all work, and the cook’s husband who served as huntsman, this place of refuge was the one place Richard was sure not to be bothered.
Which is why the pounding on the door was more irksome than the early falling snow.
Could he not even have a full fortnight of peace?
Richard answered the door himself with the intention of sending the visitor packing. Michael Endelton walked in any way.
“I did not expect the weather to be so cold so early in the season.” Michael removed his coat and gloves setting them on a bench, then went to stand before the fire.
“I did not expect company to come unannounced.” Richard followed his cousin into the main room, knowing that if he tossed his cousin out, he would never hear the end of it from his mother and aunt.
“I would not have come if our mothers did not beg me on a matter of extreme urgency. Philippa agreed with them and told me to tell you…” Michael paused and patted his waistcoat, pulling out a small notebook which he opened.
“I am to say I am sorry and beg for your forgiveness. Then tell you that you are welcome at our townhouse if you do not wish to stay at your London home after I give you the letter.”
Michael put the notebook back in his pocket.
Richard glared at his cousin and held out his hand. “What letter?”
“Oh!” Michael pulled three letters from his coat pocket. “The one from your solicitor is the most important, then the one from your mother, then Philippa’s. Though I would be obliged if you did not tell my wife that her letter was the least important.”
Richard took the letters. “I’ll call the cook to make you something. You will excuse me while I read these.”
“Before you go–” Michael held up a hand.
“Your mother asked me to tell you she has commenced setting Kenworth House to rights. The late duchess’s rooms are cleared and the painters are in.
She has written to Redbridge as well. She wanted you to know the renovation is being attended to, and that she is overseeing the work herself. ”
That his mother had not waited a fortnight before erasing every trace of the woman who had made her son’s life a misery did not surprise him.
Richard had expected nothing less. Once again, it was her right to oversee the up keeping of the residences as she wished.
Having the residences cleared of his late wife’s things would make returning to society easier when that time came.
For he must return. Thank the House of Lords for not having a session this November.
He could remain a recluse for a few more months.
Other than the bedchambers and the dining room, Richard could only excuse himself as far as the alcove at the far end of the room containing a bookcase and a single chair. He broke the seal on the solicitor’s letter and read.
Words he had not thought of since before his marriage leapt off the page.
A reminder that not only had his father acknowledged his illegitimate wastrel of a son, Duncan Kenworth, but he had prepared a path for Richard’s half-brother to inherit the Dukedom if Richard was not wed by his thirtieth birthday and produce an heir by his thirty-fifth.
Though Richard had married a few months before his twenty-sixth birthday, he was now a widower at twenty-nine.
The solicitor was unsure if this left the Dukedom up for challenge when Richard turned thirty on November 15th.
Curses that would make a sailor blush ran through Richard’s mind.
If Michael had not been in the room, all of them would have come spewing out of his mouth.
In whatever hell his dead wife resided, surely, she was laughing at him now.
Either find and marry a woman in less than four weeks, or his half-brother, his wife’s former lover, would become duke.
Preposterous! Of all the impossible, insane, ill-timed requests…
For the second time in his life, Richard was forced to wed.
The consequences of opening the door for his wastrel of a brother to inherit the Dukedom were too great.
What kind of a wife could he court and wed in less than a month?
At best, she would wed him for the title and his wealth.
At worst? He had lived that for four years already.
As he had four years ago, he thought of the tenants who would suffer, the lives he was responsible for and chose to put them over himself.
Richard folded the letter from the solicitor and tucked it in his pocket with the others. “Do not get too comfortable, we must return to London at once. Did you ride or bring a carriage?”
Michael swallowed whatever he was eating. “Your mother insisted I bring one of your carriages and your valet, as you left on horseback.”
“We will leave as soon as we can, it should not take long to gather my things.”
“I believe Jenson already has.” Michael pointed to the valet exiting the stairwell with the single bag Richard brought with him.
Somewhere near the Scottish border, Richard broke the seal on his mother’s letter.
…I know another marriage is the least of your desires.
I wish I could spare you from this duty.
We both know that Duncan would gamble away all that you have worked so hard to build after your father’s death.
I regret that your late wife turned you so against marriage and women.
Lest you think there are not good and kind women among our ranks, I ask you to look only at your cousins’ marriages.
Philippa has been everything good, kind, and loving to Michael.
His sister, Deborah, has also enjoyed felicity in marriage to her Captain Godderidge.
Though their marriage has been far from easy, I blame Napoleon of course.
I shall not bore you with Michael’s other sisters…
Remember Georgiana, Philippa’s sister? She too was honorable.
I know mentioning women who are married or more closely related than you would wish seems less than helpful.
However, I want to point out that women of kindness and integrity exist rather than point you to anyone in particular.
I will not be a match-making mama. Believe there is hope that you can find equal felicity if you are determined to try.
I have taken the liberty of putting all my energy into restoring both Kenworth and Redbridge Houses to how they were when I was Duchess, as I believe that Redbridge is the easiest to erase the changes she made.
Also, if you are to have a chance of happiness with the woman you choose as your next bride, I advise you to spend what little time you have before Parliament resumes away from London so you can form a friendship.
The London house will be refinished by the new year.
I leave this very morning for Redbridge in hopes of preparing it for you in time.
Love,
Mother
One could not curse at one’s mother. Or at least he should not.
His mother had the right of it. His late wife never used the room meant for the duchess that was attached to the Duke’s at Redbridge when they summered there, preferring a set of rooms in the east wing designed for royal visitors.
In fact, Michael and Philippa used what should have been the Duke and Duchess’s rooms each summer as they came to keep the inevitable house party from devolving into the celebration of debauchery his wife hoped for.
Richard usually stayed in rooms that were his before marriage.
Although there were memories of his late wife associated with Redbridge, there were far fewer than the painful ones from the London residence.
Sadly, he could not rid himself of either property as they were part of the ducal entail.
He must bring a new bride to some place that might be a new start for him.
Unless he intended to take her to the hunting lodge in Scotland…
Bath and Brighton suffered the same problems as London, far too much society.
Yorkshire in December was devilishly uncomfortable.
Following his mother’s suggestion, Redbridge was clearly the best choice.
Curiosity had him opening Philippa’s letter last. She had never written him before with more than an invitation. Of course, she had little reason to as he spent so much time with Michael. What could she say on the matter?
Richard-
Please do not be offended that I do not address you as Your Grace as I should in a letter. You have become more than a cousin to me since the night you helped save me from my father's machinations at the inn near Locust Lodge. I know we never talk of it, but I am forever grateful that you did.
I do not pretend to know the whole of why Michael must fetch you, I have caught enough to know that you must feel as I did, locked in that room. It is not in my power to offer you a hand of rescue as you did for me. Or at least not much of one.
Though I am married, I associate enough with the women of the ton that I could make you a list as you once helped make for Michael.
However, we know how that turned out since you eliminated my name from his prospects, and I believe I was and am his perfect match.
So I will not make any such list for you-unless you request such.
Do not believe that I will hesitate to tell you to your face if you choose a woman I deem less than worthy for your bride.
There are many who will fall at your feet for your title and your wealth.
I trust this is not news to you. There are, however, many who are kind and dignified among the ton, and not all are on the shelf nor lacking in grace and beauty.
They are quiet and dignified and not of the late duchess's circles.
I am doing a poor job of offering my help and hope, in any way you need. I simply wish I could do something to improve your lot.
Know I am at your service.
Your cousin in heart,
Philippa
Oh, if he could find a woman like Philippa. She was the perfect match for Michael and had integrity. A woman of integrity would be more than he could wish. Were his mother and cousin correct, was there such a woman who would be willing to marry him?
Alexandra Lightwood.
The eldest sister matched Philippa in wit and integrity.
Since they were both frequent guests at Michael’s home, Richard had several conversations with the woman, who despite her circumstances, never complained nor bemoaned the fact that she was unlikely to marry due to Peggy, her prosthetic limb.
A complication in Alexandra’s mind, but not in his.
A prosthetic was far from a reason to not marry, when the woman was of such high character and mind.
Her conversation had always been pleasant and insightful.
And when it came to handsome women, Alexandra was enough so to earn his late wife’s jealousy.
Alexandra had more than enough talent in music to impress when a duke’s wife was required.
Well-spoken, talented, kind. Richard searched his mind for any negative interaction.
Any signs of shrewishness. Occasionally she was pained by her old injury, again not an impediment.
She did not dance. Perhaps there was some easy thing she could dance to open the Duke’s ball so not to destroy a tradition going back generations.
They could create a new dance. She walked well enough.
A dance? How ridiculous of a thing to hold against her.
How many did? Enough that he was sure she had no suitor to contend with.
In short, Alexandra was the perfect choice and would suit him quite well for a rushed marriage.
Richard hit the roof of the carriage three times. The coachman lifted the small hatch open.
“We ride to Bath first.”
Michael roused from his sleep. “Why Bath?”
“Because I know of the perfect bride.”