Chapter Two
The Honorable Caleb Marsden, third son of Viscount Carrington, stifled a huff of breath as the Duke of Tittleford blathered on about men in the House of Lords who wished to change the order of things in England, which would make the lives of so many other people better.
It wasn’t fair, he said that so many men wished to profit off England’s rich bounty when it essentially belonged to titled families.
He sent a glance about the study with its heavy, masculine furniture in rich, cherry wood.
Two shelves were laden with expensive, leather-bound books, while a matching credenza behind the desk contained cut crystal decanters and glasses as well as bric-a-brac from around the world.
With such pieces, the obvious wealth of the duke was displayed in such a way that it couldn’t be ignored.
It never failed to make Caleb uncomfortable, and perhaps more than a little ill.
“If we could return to the matter at hand, Your Grace? There are many contracts and other documents waiting for your approval, and we are growing short on time. Additionally, matters of parliament aren’t really my specialty.”
Or his business. That was his older brother’s responsibility, since he held their father’s viscount title.
Being the third son of a viscount meant that he wasn’t the heir or the spare, so his life was his own…
and he’d been obliged to make a living in this world.
Being a solicitor was rewarding on many different levels, least of which was landing a client as high on the instep as the duke.
“Right.” Tittleford nodded. Though he still retained his looks from his younger days, he was slowly going to fat though it wasn’t readily obvious since he was a bigger man, and his salt-and-pepper hair was slowly thinning. “I have much on my mind just now.”
“I expect you do.” For twenty years, Caleb had been the duke’s solicitor.
He’d been brought onto Tittleford’s staff just after the duke had married his duchess.
And since then, he had borne witness to many things—both legal and illegal.
Did those things make him equally uncomfortable?
Of course, but he had a talent for keeping his own counsel, and that allowed him to hold his position.
A man needed a living, after all.
“I do have dinner plans then the opera afterward,” the duke said as he leaned forward in his chair to rest his forearms on the desktop. His eyes glittered with anticipation. “Should prove a good show tonight.”
“How lovely for you.” In truth, Caleb didn’t much care. “I expect the duchess will enjoy the outing.”
“The duchess is not accompanying me tonight. My mistress is.”
“I see.” Not surprising, for the duke preferred that woman’s company over his wife, more’s the pity.
As he spoke, he shuffled paperwork then presented a new document for the duke to peruse.
“This is a listing of all your current investments, bank accounts, and everything in your estate that brings in an income. Please look it over and confirm that it is correct. If I’ve missed something, let me know. ”
The duke glanced through the sheaf of papers before handing them back. “I find no errors or omissions.”
That hadn’t been enough time to even know that, but Caleb said nothing.
He tucked the papers into his leather folio.
“Next we have a document detailing the repairs and upgrades to all your properties, including the London townhouses, the Surrey manor, the dower house on that property, the hunting box in the Lake District, and the townhouse in Brighton.” Again, he passed the document across the desk to the duke.
“One of the things I admire about you, Marsden, is the fact that you don’t talk much, and you don’t ask unnecessary questions.” He frowned as he perused the papers. “Damn but these repairs will cost a veritable king’s ransom.”
“I’m afraid everything is more expensive thanks to scarcity due to the war, Your Grace, including supplies as well as craftsmen.
” As he accepted the papers back, he tucked them into the leather folio.
“And lastly, this is your revised will. You do this every year, as you know, and it’s rather lengthy.
It details portions, settlements, and inheritance for your children, your wife, your mistress, and any other family members and acquaintances you’ve expressed an interest in providing for. ” Then he gave over those papers.
That was when the duke had changes. “When did I say I was giving my wife a settlement upon my death?” He jabbed at the paper with a forefinger. “She deserves nothing.”
How cruel could the man be? “I beg your pardon, Your Grace. Perhaps I assumed that you would give your wife a portion after being with you for twenty years and giving you two children.” Had he known how Tittleford treated his wife over the years?
Of course. Everyone did. It was the worst kept secret in London, but no one wished to challenge him regarding that lest he turn his ire upon them.
“And I wish to leave my mistress more than you have put here. She’ll also get the townhouse I bought for her.
” The duke continued to scrutinize the papers.
“I don’t want my daughter to have that much pin money.
It will make her irresponsible and give her far too much independence.
It will prohibit her from wanting to marry quickly. ”
Caleb gritted his teeth so hard he feared they would crack.
Of course, because to the duke’s mind and others of his ilk, women were nothing more than property, to be traded for position, property, or coin.
“Yet these are different times, and there are fewer eligible men for marrying due to the war. If Lady Sophia decides to delay marriage, she’ll need some sort of way to function in society independent of your orders. ”
God, the worst thing that could happen to that young lady was marriage to a prick like her father, who would attempt to control every aspect of her life, just like the duke did with the duchess.
The duke waved a hand. “I care not about that. She’ll do as I say, for as long as I am here to say it.
There are a few candidates I have in mind when she is done with finishing school.
In fact, one of the meetings I’ll take this month is to make preliminary plans for an alliance between our two families. That is her duty as a duke’s daughter.”
“Ah.” Reminding himself to relax, Caleb nodded.
Not for the first time did his heart go out to the family who had had to survive this man over the years…
and he’d only seen the outer shell of how it must be.
“I shall make the changes.” That was a lie.
As he took the papers back and then shoved them into his folio, he knew he’d send the document on to its next destination in order to make it legal.
If the duke wasn’t willing to look after the women in his family, then Caleb would. Was it unethical to go against those wishes? Hell, yes. Could he lose his practice if found out? Absolutely, he could, and possibly face legal admonishment. Did he care? Not a whit.
My days of not speaking up or trying to protect them out of fear are over.
“Good man, Marsden.”
“Right.” With a nod, he secured the buckles on his leather folio. “That brings us to the end of why I needed to come by today. Do you have any questions regarding what we’ve gone over?”
“I can’t imagine that I would. I trust you in these matters.” Again, the duke waved a hand in dismissal.
An honorable man would have felt like horse excrement knowing he was going against a client’s wishes, let alone a duke’s, but Caleb stared him down and wondered why fate had decided to grant a man like him long life, or had given him such a lovely wife who’d suffered more than her fair share because of said man.
“Thank you, Your Grace. I appreciate that. Is there anything you would like to add to what I’ve already drawn up?”
“There is not.” When the duke rose to his feet, Caleb scrambled to his. “Will you stay to dinner?”
Well, he wouldn’t turn down a free meal. “Of course I can do that.” Then he remembered that the duke wouldn’t be in residence for dinner. “What of the duchess?”
“What of her?” Tittleford shrugged. He slowly came away from his desk and headed toward the door. “She’ll entertain you during the meal as is her responsibility as hostess. After that, she’ll be left to her own devices, but she knows what she’s allowed to do or not.”
God, what a prick.
For years he’d kept hold of his tongue and hadn’t called the duke out for beating or abusing his wife.
Of course he couldn’t have said anything, not if he valued his position or his life, and he certainly didn’t want to put Lady Tittleford in more danger.
It was the devil of a conundrum, but it would end now.
Yet if he did speak out, he wouldn’t put it past the duke to believe that the duchess had put him up to a protest, he might do more to her than mere beatings.
Would there suddenly be an arranged “accident” on the stairs or horseback to rid the duke of his wife? It was too horrid to think about.
Somehow, some way, there must be an evening of the field or at least a comeuppance.
Caleb nodded. “I’ll stay to dinner. No sense turning down a free meal, eh? Perhaps afterward, I’ll keep the duchess company with conversation or reading aloud in the drawing room, but don’t worry. I’ll take my leave well before you’ll return from the opera.”
Except there was one huge drawback to that plan.
He’d been in love with the lady for years, and in recent ones, he hadn’t bothered to hide his attraction for her.
What was more, there had been a return of that longing, found in glances and the brushes of fingers.
He hadn’t acted on it; that would be suicide for them both, but he did take comfort in knowing it was there.
“I suppose she does need the company.”