Page 12 of A Misguided Devotion

It was easy to sympathise with the escaped French officers. They had only been doing their duty, and now they were paying for it. How humiliating to have your movements restricted and be subject to curfews and muster-calls.

If William had stayed in Alton, he would have felt as confined as these men had been. No wonder they had risked trying to escape. He couldn’t blame them. Because that’s exactly what he had done.

The rest of the journey passed without incident, and William was relieved when the carriage started down the road from Dorchester toward Weymouth. He hoped his grandmother was not dining from home. He was starving!

Like a child on his first trip to the seaside, he lowered the window glass and leaned out as the vehicle mounted the crest of the hill, eager to glimpse the sea.

It had been too long since he had last visited Weymouth. He’d not come during his years up at Cambridge. He was a man now, not a boy. No one would recognise him unless the white-blond hair that was so like his father’s gave him away.

William breathed in the salty air as the carriage passed through the turnpike gate and bowled along the Esplanade. It drew to a stop outside his grandmother’s house on the seafront.

It was odd how he always thought of it as hers, never the Duke’s. But then, if his mother was to be believed, his grandmother had been a force to reckon with long before she married the Duke of Wessex.

A liveried footman whom he didn’t recognise opened the door. “Good afternoon, sir. How may I help you?”

William did not correct him. He would run away from his title and all that went with it if he could. “Is Her Grace at home?”

“No, sir.”

How like his grandmother—engaging in a busy social life, even at her advanced age. “When do you expect her back?”

“I’m not at liberty to say.”

That was no surprise. Grandmama still employed tight-lipped servants. Doubtless she paid them an exorbitant sum to maintain their loyalty. He’d have to ask her advice when he set up his own establishment.

He took a step forward, but the servant barred his way. How amusing. The young fellow didn’t know who he was. William was tempted to keep it like that—wasn’t anonymity what he wanted, after all? Perhaps he should put up at the Golden Lion.

Before he could retreat, an older man, dressed in black, appeared in the hall behind the footman. William recognised him at once—Mr Rowson, his grandmother’s long-standing man of business. He would not have to take rooms at the inn after all.

“Is there a reason you’re keeping Her Grace’s grandson on the doorstep, Matthew?”

The poor fellow flinched at his superior’s voice and bowed twice before throwing the door open wide.

A lopsided smile crept to William’s lips at Mr Rowson’s incredulous tone and the extreme reaction of the younger man.

His grandmother’s trusted servant resumed his normal, impassive manner as he addressed William. “Good afternoon, Lord Droxford. A pleasure to see you, as always.”

The name caught him off guard—again. So much for anonymity. News of his father’s elevation to the peerage had already reached Weymouth.

“Thank you, Rowson.”

With a slight motion of his head, the man drew the attention of the hapless servant, who seemed to have fallen into a stupor. “Matthew—his lordship’s luggage.”

“Right away, Mr Rowson. I’m sorry for keeping his lordship waiting. I didn’t know we were expecting him today.”

“An accomplished footman always expects an unexpected guest.”

“Yes, sir.”

The young man scurried down the steps to do as he was bid, whilst Mr Rowson took William’s coat and hat and led him into the entry hall.

“I apologise for Matthew. He’s only been with us for a week.”

“No matter. It’s a relief to find someone here who can vouch for me,” William said with a smile. “I trust you are able to inform me when Her Grace will be returning home?”

“I regret to say that the Duke and Duchess left for Lord Helston’s estate in Plymouth this morning, your lordship.”

They’d gone to visit their daughter? Botheration. That was a decided setback. He would have to travel to Devon if he wished to talk to his grandmother about financing his studies at the Royal Academy, and he wasn’t setting out again tonight.