Captivated by his conven.., p.2
Captivated by His Convenient Duchess, page 2
That was when he’d determined that he’d never fall in love. Never let someone make his dreams change. Never fail at anything. What may have been perhaps a silly childhood vow had become a reality when his father had grown ill and died within the week from pneumonia. The Dukedom had passed to him, and he’d felt a weight that he hadn’t expected. The duties, the businesses to oversee, were manageable. He’d been confident in his ability to follow in his father’s footsteps in all of them, even with the added thoroughbred business. It had been the other expectations that had weighed him down. The necessity of getting married to produce an heir.
He couldn’t deny that he’d always known that he’d have to marry at some point, but having it become the topic of nearly every conversation had made him feel as if he did, indeed, have too many irons in the fire. He’d tried to meet those expectations, made the time for courting, but it had been awful. There had been nothing about it that he’d enjoyed. The women had all wanted to be his top priority, and he didn’t have time for that. There had been nothing that he’d been willing to give up in order to make time for carriage rides in the park, walks in the moonlight, attending balls and the theatre and the numerous other outings that he considered merely a waste of time.
So, he’d taken the next approach. Enquired about, and found, a woman who hadn’t needed any of that either. One who had the social graces to become a duchess and simply wanted to get married because it too was expected of her.
That had been Leslie Carlisle. She’d wanted to bypass all the courtship, too, get straight to the wedding, and being the daughter of a marquess, she’d fit his standards for a wife. Until he’d discovered that the reason she’d wanted to get married, and so quickly, was because she was in love with a man her father didn’t approve of. She was now engaged to that man, and Myles wished them well. It appeared that after being rejected by a duke, an earl would fit her father’s needs after all.
Myles had been relieved when the engagement ended, but the expectations had still been there, so he had continued his search. Diana Brockholder had approached him with the claims of wanting nothing more than to wed and raise a family. Unfortunately, it hadn’t been until after he’d given her a ring that he’d discovered she was little more than a spoiled child. He’d been glad to end that relationship, too, which is why he’d been far more diligent this time.
Huffing out another sigh, Wesley sat down in the chair adjacent. ‘Myles...’
‘Wesley,’ Myles interrupted before his brother could say more. ‘I have to get marriage behind me. We have too much at stake. We need things secured. The next generation secured. What started out as a cough ended our father’s life within a few days. God forbid, if something were to happen to me, or you, we have to think of mother and the girls.’ He paused for a moment, then continued, ‘Redford Stables was our dream, Wes. We’ve already accomplished much, but there is much more we can yet do. So many more of our horses that could be winning races around the world. The competition is growing, and we have to act now to remain at the top.’
Eight years ago, when he’d been twenty and Wesley eighteen, their father had granted permission for them to pursue breeding racehorses. The sport had been around since men had started riding, but the popularity of it was turning everyday men wealthy, and that was creating a hunger for the sport worldwide. Their timing had been perfect. They’d amassed not only a massive stable full of prime breeding stock, but their venture had ensured that Redford Stables was a name to be recognised in racing across the country, the continent.
Their goal now was to extend that reach across the ocean, to America, where the sport was doubling in participation and attraction. Wesley would travel there in the new year to meet with track owners and buyers. Men who already owned stock but wanted more. They wanted horses with pedigrees behind them. Redford Stables’ English thoroughbreds not only had pedigrees; they had the drive of champions.
There had been talk of both he and Wesley travelling, promoting their horses, one to America and one to Australia, and then on to other countries, other continents, but that had been before their father’s death when everything had changed. The title and role that he’d inherited included several other ventures that needed constant attention, comprising the banks and properties his family owned and other numerous duties.
All of their holdings, including the stables, had competent and dedicated employees, and though such good employees made light of his everyday workload, it didn’t lessen the fact that he was responsible for every decision made. Responsible for everyone and everything.
‘With you going to America—’
‘I won’t go,’ Wesley interrupted, rising to his feet again. ‘I don’t have to. We can wait to expand for another few years. Goodness knows we don’t need the money.’
‘This has never been about money,’ Myles reminded. It was about failing, and that was the one thing he refused to do. A Duke of Redford had never failed, and he refused to be the first. ‘We could both sit on our assets for the next fifty years, doing nothing, and our great grandchild will still not run out of money. This is about creating something, a legacy for future generations, like our ancestors did before us. Like our grandfather did with the banks and father did with rental properties. We’ve created something people want, our thoroughbred horses are in demand, and it’s up to us to meet that demand.’
‘At what cost, Myles? Shouldn’t happiness fall in there somewhere?’
‘Yes,’ Myles admitted. ‘Redford Stables has made us both happy. It made father happy, too. This was his dream also, and one we need to continue for him as much as for us.’ Understanding his brother’s concerns focused on his decision to marry, Myles added, ‘We’ll both be happier once the family is secured.’
Wesley shook his head as he began pacing the floor. ‘Will you be happy about the way you secured it? Married to someone you don’t even know?’
‘I know more about her than you realise, I’ve talked to more people than you know. Anita was the daughter of Jerome Crawford’s brother, Daniel, the then Earl of Brunswick. Our father knew him. We were both too young to remember that, but he was a man of honour, nothing like his brother, the current earl. Anita is twenty-four, two years younger than you. The late earl and his wife, and their daughter, Anita, were in a carriage accident. Her parents were killed and she was injured. That’s why she now walks with a limp. She was only four. Jerome Crawford inherited the title from his brother, and a substantial amount of money and holdings, and has lost nearly all of it. He was attempting to gamble off his niece in a game of cards at White’s on St James’s Street.’
Wesley let out an expletive under his breath. ‘What kind of man does that?’
It wasn’t unheard of for men to gamble with practically anything, but wagering another human being was looked down upon by most, and Brunswick had been thrown out of the game and the establishment. ‘A desperate one,’ Myles replied. ‘From what I learned, Anita has barely left their estate in years. It’s a distance from London, and few people have been there over the years. Whether she remains home due to her inflictions or because Brunswick refuses to let her leave, I don’t know, but I do know that his sister-in-law chaperons his daughters around London regularly.’
Wesley pressed a hand to his forehead. ‘You can’t rescue people like you do stray animals. You’ve done that with everything from squirrels to horses over the years, but a woman? You can’t do that, Myles.’
‘Why can’t I?’ That was the very question he’d asked himself when he’d heard about Brunswick’s gambling. He loathed seeing anyone or thing mistreated, and her situation had resonated with him, telling him that he’d needed to do something about it, even before he knew about her injuries. What kind of man would he be if he didn’t help her? Not the kind he wanted to be. ‘It’ll benefit both of us. I’ll have the wife I need, children to secure the Wadsworth name as well as the Dukedom, and she’ll be taken care of, will never again have to worry about being gambled off in a card game. I also have access to doctors who might be able to help her.’
‘What are the nature of her injuries? What if she was injured to the point that she can’t have children?’
‘I spoke to the doctor who examined her when she was five or so. She’d been struggling to walk a year after the accident. He said her ankle had been broken in the accident and not properly set, and that Brunswick refused to pay for a surgery that might have helped back then. Other than her leg, the doctor claimed she was healthy.’
‘I still worry that you’re taking a big risk here.’
‘Am I?’ Myles asked aloud, because he’d convinced himself otherwise. ‘I’m not taking the risk that my soon-to-be wife is already plotting how to continue an affair with another man. Nor am I taking the risk that she’ll throw herself into a fit of rage and mistreat the servants or my family members.’ The more he’d learned about Anita, the more intrigued he’d become and was convinced that she would fit his needs. ‘Brunswick’s driver sang her praises. Described her as a quiet woman of dignity, perhaps a touch meek, who enjoys country life, and is the one who manages the household like clockwork. I also spoke with Brunswick’s sister-in-law, the Dowager Countess of Wheyfield, who not only confirmed the driver’s sentiments but added her own opinion that Anita has never been treated fairly by Brunswick.’ Myles shook his head. ‘I’m really not risking anything. Nor is she. All I’ll ask of her is trust. That I can trust her to remain faithful to me and be kind to others.’
Wesley shook his head and huffed out a breath. ‘You can’t really believe this is going to work?’
‘Yes, I can,’ Myles answered. ‘Furthermore, I do. I believe Anita Crawford is what I need. What we need. You’ve already put off going to America for over a year, ever since father’s death. You’re not cancelling another trip. I refuse to have that happen.’
Wesley shook his head, then nodded and stared across the room at nothing in particular as he asked, ‘What did mother say? I’m assuming you told her, and the girls?’
‘At breakfast this morning. Mother was surprised but agreed that it’s my decision and will support me in it.’
‘Of course she agreed with you. You’re the head of this family,’ Wesley said. ‘But we both know her wish for us is to find the love that she and father knew.’
‘Love is nothing more than a distraction, one I don’t need. I need a wife who is content to not have my constant attention,’ Myles said as he clamped his back teeth together. Though their mother had tried to keep it hidden, he’d witnessed how the loss of the love his parents had shared weighed on her. How it had aged her and it still was. That too increased his urgency to marry. He needed to find a wife, a duchess, to take other duties off his mother’s shoulders. That, though, was not something he would share with Wesley. There was no need for his brother to worry. ‘I’m twenty-eight, and the past two wedding cancellations have already given the ton all the gossip they need about us. It’s time they move on to someone else.’
‘Like this isn’t going to create more gossip? A reclusive wife you keep hidden?’
‘I won’t keep her hidden. It will be up to her if she wants to remain here, at Redford, most of the time, but I will request that she attends the Christmas Ball in London with us, as a family.’ Attendance by his family was required since it would be the first ball his two younger sisters were to attend, and he couldn’t disappoint them. He’d already convinced himself that he would not be throwing Anita to the wolves, which is what his brother was most likely thinking right now. He’d be at her side the entire time, the entire family would be, showing a united front.
‘The ball is less than a month from now,’ Wesley said. ‘When do you plan on marrying her?’
‘Tomorrow.’
‘Tomorrow?’
‘Yes, that’s why I requested you here today. I’ll need you as a witness at the wedding. Brunswick sent a message that she agreed to the marriage and is due to arrive before evening, given the weather hasn’t delayed their travels. They should have been close to arriving before the storm rolled in this morning.’
‘The roads weren’t bad from London,’ Wesley said, ‘just cold and wet, but do you trust Brunswick to keep his word?’
‘Yes, I’ve petitioned the courts for a loan against his holdings in the amount of his debt to me that will go into effect if she doesn’t arrive today.’
Wesley lifted a brow, but a knock interrupted anything he was about to say.
‘Come in,’ Myles said, rising to his feet.
‘Excuse me, sir,’ Charles, their long-time and still overly spry butler said. ‘There is a carriage coming up the driveway that appears to be out of control. I’ve sent Gus to the stables to get help, but I’m not sure what else to do.’
Myles wasn’t sure what to do, either, other than rush outside and figure out what could be done. Wesley ran beside him, down the corridor and across the hall, and then out the door. Neither of them had grabbed coats, and the bite in the air was as cold as Wesley had proclaimed upon his arrival a short time ago.
However, the cold didn’t stop them from racing down the steps and watching the carriage careen around the last curve in the road and barrel forward. A woman was driving it, with a single bright blue feather flopping atop her hat like she’d struck a bird en route and one of its tail feathers had got stuck to her head. The horses didn’t appear to be out of control, but she had to be out of her mind to drive them at such speeds in this weather.
Myles couldn’t tell if it was with expertise or sheer determination, by the look on her face, that she brought the steaming horses to a stop so close to the front steps that both he and Wesley had to jump back to keep from getting hit.
‘There’s a man freezing to death inside the coach!’ she shouted. ‘He fell in the river! Hurry! Get him inside the house!’
Myles leaped forward and pulled open the door of the coach. A man was huddled in the corner of one seat, so blue that if not for the way he was shaking, Myles would have thought him dead. However, he also recognised him as Brunswick’s driver.
There was an older woman inside the coach, too, who looked as cold as the driver, but she wasn’t blue. She was white, as if she’d lost all her colour. Even her hands that were gripping the edge of the carriage seat were white.
Groomsmen from the stable were arriving two at a time, and Myles instructed them to get the man and woman inside the house.
As Myles stepped back, giving the men room, Wesley caught sight of the coach occupants, then looked up at the woman driver, who was telling the grooms to be careful, but hurry.
‘That’s her, isn’t it?’ Wesley whispered.
‘I believe so,’ Myles admitted, as a chill that had nothing to do with the cold air coiled around his spine.
Wesley slapped his back. ‘I wouldn’t call that meek, brother. You ever rescued a hellcat before?’
Myles ignored his brother and turned his full attention on the woman driver as the other men carried the man and other woman towards the house. Maybe all of his thoroughness hadn’t been quite thorough enough. She wasn’t meek. Nor was she unattractive, as he’d also been told, granted that had been by Brunswick when Myles had said he was interested in her, not Brunswick’s daughters. Even with her hat askew and her hair dripping wet, the fineness of her features was enough to steal a man’s breath.
‘My horses need to be taken care of, too,’ she said. ‘Quickly. They’re overheated and that’s dangerous in this weather.’
Even though her words were clear and full of urgency, he heard the way her voice shivered, indicating she was as chilled to the bone as her passengers. Perhaps more so considering she’d been out in the elements.
‘They’ll be taken care of,’ he said, stretching his hands towards her. ‘Here, let me help you down.’
Chapter Two
Anita had never been so cold in her life. It wasn’t just her bad leg that was stiff. Her entire body felt that if she moved anything, even a mere inch, it would break in two. Despite that, if she could move them a mere inch, she would. She tried, but not even her fingers would move so she could release the reins.
The man who had offered help, who looked similar to the one who was already unbuckling the harness from Clod, had climbed up on the step for the driver’s seat. ‘Here, let me help you,’ he said while gently unlacing the reins from between her fingers.
Embarrassed by her inabilities, she tried to explain, ‘I g-guess I—I’m ch-chilled.’ The cold, or perhaps fear now that she’d arrived, was settling in fast, making it difficult to talk.
‘Understandably so.’ With her hands free of the reins, he grasped both of her arms. ‘I’ll help you stand up, then get down to the ground.’
She pushed with her good leg, forcing her bottom off the seat, but her bad leg was numb and that knee buckled. She emitted a tiny screech at the pain and at how her bottom landed back on the wooden seat.
One of his arms went around her back, the other slid beneath her knees. ‘I’m going to lift you down,’ he said. ‘You’re practically frozen stiff.’
She hadn’t been carried since she’d been a small child, and couldn’t be now. That was not how she wanted to arrive at Redford. The Duke could be watching out of a window, and... Maybe that would be best. Then he’d know right off that he’d made a mistake.
The man’s arms were as solid as wood, and he hoisted her off the seat as if she didn’t weigh more than a feather, then he climbed off the step without putting her down.
‘Th-thank you. I—I c-can w-walk,’ she said with effort, praying her bad leg wouldn’t fail her.
