A Rake’s Holiday Return
By Ramona Elmes
Chapter One
The Duke of Webster’s Estate, England – 1854
“Shall we go in, my lord?” Lord Anthony Webster’s friend and business partner, Jonathan Tilly, questioned.
He scowled at the man who’d been by his side since he’d left England for the Kingdom of Bohemia five years ago. It was a region that had gone through sporadic turmoil, but Anthony had found himself there. “Don’t call me that, Jon.”
His friend smirked. “My father is the land steward for your brother. Our places in society are very different now that we are home.”
Anthony had once cared about titles, but years of traveling abroad and working side by side with Jon and the men they employed in their overseas investments changed that. “Not any longer. I’ve informed my mother that your family will be joining us for the Christmas festivities.”
A chuckle escaped Jon. “We’ve not even arrived, and you are scandalizing your family.”
“We are friends. Bloodlines matter not to me.”
Truthfully, Anthony once believed his family lineage had somehow made him superior. Now he realized how foolish such notions were. He’d changed so much since his departure. He swallowed, wondering if she’d changed too.
“We can leave. You owe your brother and Lillian nothing.”
He knew Jon was right. Still, Anthony, over the last year, had missed England. Hell, he’d missed his family. His square jaw clenched. He even missed the brother who’d betrayed him. Anthony frowned. Was it a betrayal? Or had his pursuit of Lillian been foolish all those years ago? Memories of his childhood hadn’t been far from his mind of late. Yet, he seldom thought of Lillian, the woman who influenced his departure from England.
“No, I want to see everyone.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to tell them about the investments?”
He shook his head. Anthony preferred to let his family assume he was a rake living a life of vice on the Continent. “It isn’t their business.”
Jon sighed. “As you wish.”
Anthony's gaze turned back to the enormous estate that he and his brother had spent their childhood at. Now, his brother, the Duke of Webster, controlled it all. He tried to remind himself that he and Philip had been close once. He shouldn’t despise him.He took the woman you thought you’d wed, his mind taunted.
A phaeton carriage turned towards the estate on a road further up, careening down the dirt road as if being chased by the hounds of hell. The woman driving the open-top carriage laughed as she raced onward, her unruly brown hair blowing in the wind.
Anthony would know that laughter anywhere. Some things apparently didn’t change. Jon chuckled. “It is good to see Harriet is still her normal self. I’d assumed she’d be married by now.”
“No one would marry that hellion,” he muttered.
Jon grinned. “It is strange how different she and Lillian are.”
Anthony supposed, but he imagined people could say the same about him and Philip. Still, seeing Harriet being her usual self at least partially broke the black mood he was in. She’d been a nuisance growing up. The woman, at least as a child, didn’t know how to avoid causing trouble. Wherever she went, chaos occurred—spilt tea at her mother’s garden party, a shattered ice sculpture at her first ball, and a stampede of hogs through his family’s country gardens were only a few he remembered.
Anthony rubbed at the scar along his chin. The damn hogs had nearly killed them all. He’d pushed Harriet out of the way when one charged her in the Webster’s expansive gardens. He'd struck his chin on a statue, leaving a scar.
He surveyed the entire area around Webster Hall. Anthony had missed this place, confirming it had been time to return home. Memories of him, Philip, Jon, Lillian, and Harriet racing through the fields flashed in his mind. They’d all grown up together. Philip had been the oldest, but only by a year. He and Jon were the same age. Lillian had been two years younger than them, and Harriet a year younger than her.
They were all much older now. Anthony was twenty-nine and a bachelor. His mother had written that Lillian was with child after many years of uncertainty for her and Philip about whether it was possible. That had been one reason Philip constantly asked him to return. He wanted him to be prepared to succeed him as the heir.
Anthony didn’t want any part of the dukedom. Jon smacked him on the back, taking him away from his thoughts. “I will go visit my father and mother, but I will see you later in the week.”
He nodded and watched his friend ride off. Anthony was finally home. He would stay for Christmas and be happy for Philip and Lillian. He could do that. A sigh escaped him before he galloped towards his brother’s ducal estate.
***
Lady Harriet Barstow smiled at the butler as she stepped through the front doors of Webster Hall. “My ride was so refreshing, Smith.
