Page 3 of The Duke Who Claimed Her

“Now you go too far.” He glanced at his cousin and saw the sadness in her eyes because she knew his loneliness and the reason for it. “See it done,” he sighed in defeat. “Names only, Penelope. No promises. No guarantees. This is not me saying yes, merely me considering it.”

Her smile was neither warm nor hopeful. Rather, it told him what Caspian already knew: that whoever she chose, the marriage sure to come would be one of coldness and misery because that was the only thing that Caspian was capable of offering.

“I will see it done,” she said. “For Timothy, Caspian. Remember that.”

“For Timothy,” he agreed as he turned back to the fire.

This was not for himself. This was not so that Caspian might one day find happiness. Such a state of being was not something he believed in, and to think differently or hope would only lead to the type of pain he knew too well.

But for Timothy… the boy was not as broken as he appeared, and so there was hope that his life might improve. Truly, that was the only thing that kept Caspian’s objections, of which there were many.

Penelope’s garden party had been ill-timed, in Caspian’s opinion. Not because of anything that she had done, but because the moment that it started, a storm swept across the estate and forced the party-goers indoors.

As luck had it, that storm was fleeting, and no sooner was Caspian walking from the drawing room to find Timothy than Penelope directed her guests back into the garden so they might continue their festivities.

Caspian, of course, had no intention of joining them.

I will find Timothy, and we will leave.

Frustratingly, Timothy was nowhere to be seen, nor was Miss White. Caspian avoided heading into the garden, instead sweeping the interior of the manor, hoping he might find his nephew so he could avoid seeing and talking to anyone. But after fifteen minutes of searching, he was empty-handed, and with no other choice, he was forced to face the party.

The moment Caspian stepped outdoors, he was promptly reminded of why he avoided these types of gatherings in the first place.

“Your Grace!” Lady Miranda Eastwood, a close friend of Penelope’s, was on him as soon as he stepped into the garden. “There you are! I have been looking everywhere for you.”

“You have found me.” Caspian swept his eyes over the busy party, searching out Timothy. The boy had to be somewhere!

“I was hoping to introduce you to my daughter…” Lady Eastwood turned slightly, searching for her daughter to come and greet him. “She is lovely, Your Grace. I know the two of you will get along famously.”

“Another time…” Caspian put his head down and charged ahead.

“When would that be?” Lady Eastwood called, to which Caspian did not respond.

A few steps later Caspian found himself facing down Lady Whitmore. She was also close with the Dowager Duchess of Marlborough, and she had a daughter whom she was certain Caspian would love.

“Let me find her for you,” Lady Whitmore said. “She has been so eager to meet you.”

“I am afraid I cannot stay,” Caspian said as he stepped around her, still searching for Timothy. “But thank you.”

“Your Grace!” a cry from a different lady. “A moment, please!”

It was like this everywhere that Caspian went. He was five-and-thirty years old, a perfect age for marriage. He was a duke, a title any lord or lady would be thrilled to attach to their daughter. He was also tall, strongly built with wide shoulders and a heavy back, dark hair, and a handsome face that was angular and sharp like a marble statue. Often, he was told that he looked as if his face had been designed purposefully to be drawn and then admired.

Never mind that he was a known rake. Never mind that he was a known gambler. Never mind that he had made it his life’s mission to adopt a reputation that should have frightened any respectable lady away from him. Never mind that!

My title is all they care about… my wealth… and how they might use me.

Perhaps such things should not have bothered Caspian, as he had no desire to fall in love. But deep down, there was the fear that such a thing might just happen, and that when it did, the inevitable pain of a broken heart was sure to follow.

Better to avoid such things entirely.

Caspian moved through the garden party without stopping, avoiding any chance of being cornered. Sadly, Timothy was nowhere in sight, which made Caspian think the obvious. The boy was known to sneak off when he was not watched, and with his sour mood, there was a good chance he had left the premises altogether.

Feeling the walls closing in around him, needing to find Timothy and leave at once, Caspian decided to do a quick search of the outer estate.

Marlborough Estate was far smaller than Caspian’s own lands, surrounded mostly by sparse forest which separated the manor from a nearby village. Such terrain made it difficult to scout quickly, so Caspian ducked from the back garden and followed a dirt path that he had once found Timothy exploring.

The dirt path led into the forest, winding among the trees and snaking away from his cousin’s house until the sound of the party grew distant and then disappeared completely.