Page 3 of Sincerely, the Duke
Sincerely,
The Duke of Stonerick
Rick plopped the quill back into its holder and handed the sheet over to his mother. It wasn’t as praiseworthy as the proposal he’d helped Wyatt write last year, but it would get the job done.
“This should do it, Maman. Let me know when she accepts.”
CHAPTER 2
THE ART OF BEING A FINE GENTLEMAN
SIR DUDLEY SAMSON PEMBERTON FINE
When necessary, a gentleman will step into the fray to help avoid a fight.
After several days of drinking the concoctions of willow bark and other remedies the apothecary had given him, the high fevers, body-rattling pain, and weakness were gone. His strength had returned but the mysterious bouts that came on suddenly and ravaged him left Rick with the gnawing concern it truly was time to shake off his bachelor leanings, and to marry and produce an heir. But not today. He was back at his desk and handling a typical morning routine of reading correspondence, signing documents, and checking over the account books delivered for his review. He would be meeting with his solicitor, account managers, and several others later in the day to catch up on all his duties as duke so that he could return to his social schedule tomorrow.
His friend Wyatt had an early fencing match, and later, the two of them planned to meet Hurst at his stables to admire the new thoroughbred he’d purchased a few days ago and perhaps see him run. After that, the three of them were riding to the outskirts of Town to an area referred to as The Field for Rick’s shooting match. Someyoung men who’d recently come to London to enjoy a romp or two before the Season started were itching to test their skills against him.
But before his busy day started, there was much to do today. Having been waylaid because of the ailment that had plagued him, Rick’s stack of correspondence was enormous.
Hurrying through his responsibilities wasn’t something he liked to do. He always attended to the business of his estates before all else. He had an innate distrust of people. That wariness was especially true of solicitors, accountants, and overseers. The same type of man who failed to realize his father’s best friend was in cahoots with one of the dukedom’s trustees and hadn’t caught on to their practices of embezzling monies from Rick’s funds while he was still under the man’s guardianship.
Ever since that treachery was discovered, Rick diligently checked behind everyone in a studious way and kept up with the entailed holdings and all other properties and businesses he owned by inheritances. Only after important matters were taken care of would he concentrate on his sporting club, entertainment, and games. And then he did so with relish.
On occasion, he dabbled in the political affairs surrounding Parliament, but not with much frequency. He found doing so made him more friends and enemies than he wanted. Frankly, he had enough of both.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, Your Grace.”
Rick glanced up at his butler before returning his attention to the document he was about to sign. “Yes, Palmer.”
“Mrs. Pauline Castleton is here and wishes to speak to you. She says she is related to Lord Quintingham’s family by marriage.”
“Probably true, but I don’t know the viscount or anyone by her name.” Rick added his signature to the document.
“The young lady who accompanies her insists it’s quite urgent they speak to you.”
“It always is and not surprising considering the Season is starting in a matter of days.” Rick placed the quill back in its stand. “I don’t have time to see anyone today, no matter the reason. Send anyone who calls on me over to see Mr. Wrightmyer.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
Rick impatiently dug back into his paperwork, but a nagging worry crossing his mind caused him to pause. Neither the physician nor the apothecary could promise Rick’s recent illness wouldn’t return and there might come a time when the powders and tonics wouldn’t keep the fevers at bay. There was no way of knowing. Everyone agreed intermittent fevers could be dangerous.
In his many years of attending the Season, Rick had never given serious consideration to any of the young ladies. Now he had to. Not because of his mother’s wishes, or because his cousin beat him to the nursery. Neither of which bothered him. It was his duty to the title that had him now returning to the idea it was time to settle on a bride.
But if he met with every mother and father who wanted to talk about their daughter’s virtues in hopes of making a match with him, he’d never have time for anything else. Besides, he would meet all the young ladies making their debuts at the first ball of the Season. That wasn’t far away and was soon enough to begin a dedicated search.
He pulled the next document from the pile and started reading, but moments later, sounds of raised voices coming from the front of the house disturbed his concentration. He looked up and listened. A young lady’s voice. And Palmer’s. It was unlike his butler to speak in such an authoritative tone. The big bear of a man never had, that Rick remembered. Although he couldn’t distinguish the words, it was apparent they were having a set-to. Rick felt a twinge between his shoulder blades. Whatever was going on, something didn’t feel right about it.
It wasn’t uncommon for people from various walks of life to arrive at his door saddled with all manner of questions and propositions in hopes of gaining an audience with him. That had been the case for as long as he could remember and was one of the reasons why Rick didn’t take well to others. Customarily, if someone came to see him without the benefit of an invitation, it was because they wanted something, be it money, a favor, or influence. However, they usually didn’t start an argument with his butler when told to be on their way.
More than a little interested by now, Rick strained to hear what was being said, but was too far away. Curious and a little suspicious too, he laid the papers aside.
Shoving back from his desk, he rose, sauntered to the door to look down the corridor. Palmer was holding the front door open with one hand and pointing outside with the other. An older lady, Mrs. Castleton, Rick presumed, stood in front of the open doorway, wearing a wide black bonnet with extremely long pheasant feathers shooting out of it. She urgently motioned for the other, younger female to come with her. Clearly, the belle wasn’t budging.
With her back to him, Rick couldn’t see much of her but sufficient to know she was above-average height, a slender build, straight back, and had softly rounded shoulders. Her hair was completely covered by a black bonnet. The matching pelisse she wore cinched at theback of her waist just enough to give her an attractively feminine shape.
“I’ll not tell you my private affairs concerning the duke, sir,” the young lady said. “That would be most improper of me to disclose. Nor will I leave until I speak to him.”
