The Duke's Reform

For the first time she felt in control of her own destiny, not beholden to her parents or her autocratic husband. By the end of March the entire staff had transferred to join her. Extra servants had been taken on from the village and so far no one had seen fit to send news to Grosvenor Square that she was in residence. Mary had the house running like clockwork. Bill was a magnificent butler, firm but fair and, more importantly, he was almost as tall as her husband and much younger and fitter. She was praying he would not allow the duke to barge his way when he eventually arrived to confront her.

She had not been in residence long when the estate manager, Mr Reynolds, approached her. “Your grace, forgive me for bothering you, but your tenants and their cottages are in dire straits. There have been no repairs or improvements here for many years. Two children died from lack of warmth last week.”

“That’s appalling, Mr Reynolds. I give you permission to instigate any repairs necessary. Get the men to do the work themselves and pay them for it. Make sure there is enough fuel for everyone and give food where it is in short supply.”

Alexander had been irresponsible. How could he have been so lax with his duties? He prided himself on his birth and yet he had neglected the most crucial part of his inheritance—taking care of those dependent on him.

Reynolds beamed, his cheeks glowing from the cold. “Thank you, your grace. I’ve access to sufficient funds which I usually draw on for day-to-day matters. If we get started right away by the time the depredations are noticed the work will be completed.” He grinned, and looked almost boyish in his excitement.

“Do whatever you have to, spend what you need, but I suggest everything is done as rapidly as possible. I’m sure you understand the necessity for speed.”

“I do. What’s done can’t be undone. I reckon we’ve got a month before … well a month to get things done.” The estate manager went about his business leaving her to contemplate the scale of what she’d set in motion. This was tantamount to stealing; as the duchess she had no legal right to her husband’s money. He would come hurtling down from Grosvenor Square when he noticed the discrepancies in his accounts. Was that why she’d given her permission without a second thought? Did she feel now was the time to tell him of her condition?

Word had spread around the neighbourhood that she had returned and had authorised much-needed improvements. Everyone knew she had no right to do so but the artisans had done the work anyway. When the duke eventually came he would be faced with a fait accompli. All his tenants would be well housed and there would be nothing he could do about it apart from rant and rave. She would take the blame; no one else would suffer. She had done the right thing and was confident those around her would support her when he came.

Isobel was sitting quietly in front of the fire reading a new novel that had recently arrived from London entitled Pride and Prejudice. She had never read anything so enjoyable and was so engrossed she ignored the faint fluttering in her stomach. When it happened a second time her book fell unheeded from her fingers. She placed both hands on her distended belly. Yes, there it was again. The baby inside was kicking, telling her she was going to be a mother in a few months. Her heart contracted. The idea of handing over her child appalled her. But could she learn to live with a man she feared and didn’t trust?

Chapter Nine

Alexander ran his fingers through his hair and frowned at the column of figures. There was something amiss here; the amount of money leaving this account was astronomical. His estate manager was either corrupt or run mad. The man had had no authorization to draw such sums of money from the bank. He pushed the papers to one side with a sigh. He must return to Newcomb and see for himself what was going on. This was a damn nuisance as the season was about to begin in earnest and he was determined to complete the process of re-establishing himself in the eyes of the ton.

He had easily resisted the voluptuous temptations of his erstwhile mistress and doused his physical needs by vigorous exercise. Much to the astonishment of his staff he’d taken to running round the park at dawn, also hurtling up and down the staircase at regular intervals during the day. He’d also resumed his sparring at Jackson’s and during the last bout he’d only been floored once.

Being fit and clearheaded for the first time in many years had sharpened his intellect—unfortunately it had also made him more aware of the sins of the flesh. One thing was very certain. However much he might lust after a woman he would never be unfaithful to Isobel. She was constantly in his thoughts. He sent up a fervent prayer every day asking the Almighty to give him a second chance.

A sharp tap on the door reminded him he was expecting a visit. Gathering up the loose sheets he stuffed them into the drawer of the desk and locked it. For some reason he didn’t quite trust Richard Bentley, the young man his lawyers had tracked down as being next in line. Bentley was altogether too unctuous and already showing an inclination towards fast play and fast women.

“Come in, if you must.”

The door swung open and Bentley stepped in, Alexander struggled to remain expressionless. The man was a popinjay and followed the most extreme of fashions. Good God! The idiot could scarcely turn his head because his shirt points were so high.

“My lord, I beg your pardon for disturbing you, but I’ve a matter of the utmost urgency to bring to your attention.”

Even his voice irritated—this was slightly high pitched, and he ended sentences as if asking a question. “As you see, Bentley, I’m busy. Can it not wait until I’ve done.”

The young man smiled and nodded as if in understanding but looked as if he intended to stay all morning.

“Well, get on with it. What is it you wish to discuss with me?”

Undeterred by the brusque response Bentley leaned forward placing his hands on the desktop. “I beg your pardon but I’ve heard the most disturbing rumour, your grace. It is being said in more than one drawing-room that the Duchess of Rochester is missing.”

Alexander’s fingers gripped the edge of the table. Have dare this jackanapes ask him such a question? Bentley had only been in residence three weeks and was already behaving as if he were a member the family. “My wife is at Newcomb, she does not come to town. In fact, I am going down to visit her today.”

He was dammed if he was going to sit here and be interrogated by someone who was only a relative in the most tenuous of fashions. According to his lawyers Bentley was his heir, a clear line of descent from an ancient uncle, but he was a cousin so many times removed Alexander felt him not to be kin at all.

The wretched man sprung to his feet all eagerness and conciliation. “How delightful! Then if you’ll permit me I shall accompany you the country. I believe it will be in order for me to meet your wife. I can’t tell you how much I am anticipating the pleasure.”

This was too much. With one swift stride Alexander was beside him. He was a head taller and twice his weight. Bentley took a step backward and, tripping over his feet, landed heavily on his backside. Alexander could not stop his bark of laughter at the man’s expense.

“Get up, man. And get rid of those high-heeled boots, you’ll break your neck falling off them one of these days.” He offered his hand and pulled him to his feet.

“Thank you, my lord. I do beg your pardon for being so clumsy. I take it you have no wish for me to accompany you this morning. I quite understand, perhaps I may join you in the country next week?”

The young man was a buffoon. Bentley had been brought up in very different circumstances but maybe in time he would improve. “Very well, if I don’t return to town before then you’re welcome to follow me to Newcomb, if that’s what you wish to do.”

Bentley bowed and retreated leaving Alexander to consider his options. He would not disturb his staff; they could remain in situ as his visit would be brief. He would deal with Reynolds and then depart immediately. Newcomb would be cold and unwelcoming with only a handful of staff in residence to receive him.

He frowned and rubbed his chin. The Season was about to start—why did Bentley have this sudden urge to visit Newcomb? That he wanted to meet Isobel was fustian. Surely he was not already running from his debts? He shrugged and dismissed this unpleasant notion. It could be dealt with on his return.

Today was clear and crisp; the storms and poor weather of the previous months gone. March weather was