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A Duke and A Damsel
Chapter 1
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Lord Blake Percival Carstairs sat in his favorite chair nursing his fourth glass of whiskey. He wasn't drunk yet but it would have been better if he had been. Then his mind would sink into oblivion, and he wouldn't be able to think. Right now, he was thinking too damned hard.
The day had started off marvelously. First, Blake had taken a tour of the grounds, as was his custom every morning. Then, because it was market day, he had ridden into town to pay his respects to the vicar and browse around the market. It was quite lonely at Sherwood Manor so he looked forward to market days, when he could ride into town and converse with all the vendors. The shopkeepers were not very friendly unless one bought something in their shops every time they went in. Finally, he had ridden to the next town over to check if he had gotten any mail, as he did every Friday. Nothing was out of the ordinary.
Once at the post office, if one could call it that, he had been pleased to find that he'd finally received another letter from his best friend in India, Arjun Sen. Life in Devonshire was mundane, to say the least, compared to life in Calcutta. For one thing, there were a lot less people. For another, there seemed to be nothing to do or see. Everything was quite predictable. He was sure that there were people who would kill for such a relaxing, or in his opinion boring, lifestyle. He was not one of those people.
To his utter surprise, he had also received a letter from Stockholm and Sons. This was most perplexing, as he did not recall Stockholm and Sons to be his solicitors. But the letter was clearly addressed to him. Then he remembered that they were his uncle's solicitors.
They had first contacted him in October of last year, stating that his Uncle Horace, his father's third cousin, had passed away and left the title of Duke of Devonshire to him since he had no other children or remaining relatives to pass it on to. Though he had been greatly honored at the time, he was not sure that he wanted to assume a position of nobility, seeing that he had lived in India for most of his life and knew nothing of the customs. His father had been quite adamant about his acceptance, but was not keen on letting Blake go back to England before his assignment in India was over. There was no telling when that would be; they had been here for almost twenty years already, and his father seemed in no hurry to go back. Because the solicitor's had said that his presence in London was required to legally transfer the title, Blake had left his family against their will, saying that it wouldn't be fair to keep the solicitors waiting if indeed he was going to accept the title. This had led to an estrangement between him and his family, because in his father's mind, he had chosen nobility over family. He frowned. What could they possibly want from him nearly 6 months after his acceptance of the title?
His curiosity getting the best of him, he rode back to Sherwood Manor, without pausing to take a stroll by the Channel as he usually did. He greeted his butler and housekeeper, then locked himself in his study, not wanting to be disturbed. He opened Arjun's letter first, eager for news of the place he still considered home. He was slightly disappointed to see that the letter was not too long. Settling down in his favorite chair by the fireplace, he began to read, shuddering slightly when he got the part about matrimony with Cecilia Bishop. He thanked his lucky stars that he had escaped that match. At six-and-twenty, he considered himself too young to be married or to start a family. However, he perked up when he read of Arjun's upcoming arrival in England. It would be wonderful to see his best friend again. Quickly but carefully, he folded the letter and pocketed it, so he could put it in the box in his bedroom later. Then he opened the other letter.
He realized now that that had been a grave mistake. He should have left the letter unopened for as long as possible. Just thinking about the contents of the letter made him cringe. He downed the glass of whiskey he was holding and walked unsteadily to the decanter to get another. He had read that damned letter so many times, he had it memorized by heart, and now bits and pieces were floating around his head. It was haunting him.
Dear Lord Blake Percival Carstairs, 14th Duke of Devonshire,
It is my duty to inform you that a codicil has been found to your late uncle's, the 13th Duke of Devonshire's, will. To put it simply, it says that you must marry by the thirtieth of June following your acceptance of the Dukedom. If you do not comply, the title will be reinstated to the Crown, and Parliament may do as they please with it.
We apologize for any inconvenience this has caused you. Please do not hesitate to contact us if any questions remain. We expect to see you at our London office the first of July with either your marriage certificate or the deed to Sherwood Manor.
Yours,
Mr. Wulfric Stockholm
Stockholm and Sons
“We apologize for any inconvenience this has caused you.” Ha. That line made him want to do something violent. Could the bloody solicitors not have found the blasted codicil months earlier, when he had actually accepted his position as Duke? Now, he had no choice but to find a bride by the thirtieth of June, and it was already the first. There were exactly thirty days left. Make that twenty-nine, today would be a complete waste. The travel time to London in order to find a wife brought him down another day; and yet another to find engagements at which to get himself invited. Plus the day of the wedding itself. He was down to twenty-five days at most. What man could decide who they wanted to spend the rest of their lives with in less than twenty-five days? Anyone capable of that deserved a medal. Bloody hell.
How he wished he could just give away the title. He hadn't wanted it anyway since he had done nothing to deserve it. However, there was no way he would dishonor or disgrace his family by losing the title for future generations. He smiled at the irony of it all. He had just escaped his mother's matchmaking tendencies only to discover that he must find a bride on his own. He had always taken for granted when he was ready to settle down, he would marry the girl of his mother's choosing. So much for that plan.
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Emmaline Sheridan wanted to scream at the unfairness of it all. Either that, or she wanted to stomp her foot and throw a tantrum like a small child. While some people went from rags to riches, here she was going from riches to rags, and all because her father had no self control. It was awful.
She had seen the strange men come by the house this morning to talk to her father. There were three of them, and they all looked quite menacing. They had left the house looking a little too satisfied for her liking. Later, her mother had taken her into the living room and promptly burst into tears.
“I don't know what to do, Emmy. Everything has fallen apart. We are going lose everything, the house, the servants, everything,” her mother said tearfully.
“But why, Mamma? What has happened? Who were those men?”
For some reason, Emma's questions made her mother sob harder.
“Oh, darling,” she managed before pausing to cry some more, “those men were apparently sent by someone your father has been borrowing money from.”
Emma frowned. Why did they need more money? They were quite wealthy in their own right, and she had never felt that they had been lacking. It couldn't be for a house, seeing as they already had a townhouse in London plus their family home in the country. Nor could it be for a carriage or horses, things they already had. She saw no reason for her father to be borrowing money.
“Mamma, we have money, so why is Papa...” she trailed off and narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “He hasn't been gambling again, has he?”
Her mother nodded, unable to vocalize anything this time. A couple of years ago, they had discovered that Emma's father had a gambling addiction. However, once he had lost his grandfather's pocket watch, his most prized possession, he had learned his lesson. Or so they had thought.
“Damn it!” Emma shouted, forgetting that she was a lady and such words weren't supposed to be used.
“We must have something left to appease them with for now, to buy us some more time at least,” she said.
“Nothing,” her mother replied.
“How long do we have to pay off the debt?” her mind scrambling to find a solution.
“ Oh, Emmy, We must pay it off by the thirtieth of June. If we don't he will be sent to the debtor's prison, and we will be left with nothing!”
Suddenly it hit her. There was one way to fix the problem. Her inheritance, left to her by her dear grandmother. Though she still had another year before her twenty-third birthday, she could claim her inheritance if she married. She had already had her season but found no one to her liking yet; maybe it was time to start looking more actively.
Today was the first. She had thirty days to find a groom. Well, twenty-nine, as there was no way she could try to meet someone today. Actually, twenty-eight, tomorrow she had some household errands to attend to. And Almack's wasn't until Wednesday so that was twenty-seven. Plus of course the day of the wedding itself. It seemed that she had approximately twenty-five days to find a husband. What woman could decide who they wanted to father their children in less than twenty-five days? Surely, that person would deserve a prize.
She smiled grimly at the irony of it all. For years, she had managed to avoid fortune hunters like the plague. Now it seemed that she would have to find one of them, and only so she could claim her inheritance. She wanted to marry for love, not because she had no choice. So much for that plan.