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Sitting on the patio of Keddleston Abbey, Anthony felt a rare moment of contentment. The sun was blazing, and yet the breeze helped to temper some of the heat. The umbrella that had been erected offered plenty of shade, though his sisters seemed more content with wandering up and down the lawn.
Emily, the youngest, often forgetting herself, would begin to run up and down, expressing her sheer joy at the weather and the beautiful home they now shared with their brother, while Elizabeth, the more level-headed and older sister, tried and failed to remind her sister that they were ladies now and were not supposed to run around like headless chickens.
Anthony was laughing at just such a comment when the sound of his butler clearing his throat behind him caused Anthony's contentment to evaporate. Over the last few weeks, Anthony had come to learn the different tones and sounds that alerted him to the mood of news the butler was bringing to him. His time in the Army had left him with the great and well practised skill of reading people, though Anthony was quickly coming to loathe it.
"What is it, Cartwright?" Anthony demanded without bothering to look at the man. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the butler take a deep and steadying breath, bowing his head respectfully with his hands clasped behind his back before daring to speak.
"Mr Patterson has arrived, Your Grace."
Anthony cringed, not only because he hated his solicitor but also because he would never grow used to the new title he had inherited. A part of him even hated his poor distant uncle who had left him the damned thing in the first place until he reminded himself the man was dead and he would never condone speaking ill of the dead, no matter what they had done.
Gritting his teeth, Anthony forced himself to his feet and offered his sisters a wave. They paused in their walking, Elizabeth handing her parasol to her lady's maid before both young women waved back. The true happiness beaming on their faces tugged at Anthony's heartstrings.
They had no idea the torment he was going through to give them this life, and he wished to keep it that way. With that in mind, he instructed Cartwright, "Show him to my study."
For just a moment, the butler looked as though he might ask which study, though the moment Anthony offered him a pointed look, the elder man looked apologetic. After only a few months as the Duke of Chatham, he, the butler, and the rest of the servants were still getting used to all the changes.
Only his sisters seemed to have settled in, appearing from their chrysalises as if they were beautiful butterflies who had merely been waiting for the right environment to prosper.I must do this for them,Anthony told himself, knowing that the solicitor had likely come to talk further on the horrendous arrangements he had got himself into.
Cartwright hurried back into the house, leaving Anthony to idle his way to the study, the outer doors leading right out onto the patio. He was already seated comfortably in his desk chair when the butler knocked on the door to announce the solicitor. Anthony cleared his throat and straightened the front of his waistcoat, saying, "Come in."
"Mr Patterson for you, Your Grace," Cartwright announced the moment he stepped in with a bow. Anthony watched silently as the small, wiry solicitor stepped into the room and bowed his head low. Not for the first time, Anthony thought about how much like a mouse the man was with his long, thin nose and his beady little eyes that he tried to hide behind wire- rimmed spectacles.
"Lord Chatham, forgive the intrusion," Mr Patterson said, waiting for Anthony's permission to straighten up as though he was more a prince than a duke. Anthony smirked, making him sweat for a moment more before finally gesturing with a hand and a clearing of his throat.
"I was well aware of your attendance, Mr Patterson," Anthony pointed out, "you sent a letter ahead, did you not? Though you did not mention why you were attending my home."
"Yes, yes, Your Grace." Mr Patterson nodded and straightened up. He held his pocketbook in hand, clutching it almost to his chest as if he wished to use it as a shield against Anthony's scathing eye. It was clear from the solicitor’s attitude that he was well aware of Anthony's feelings towards him. Anthony had to at least admire him for having the guts to stand before him still without entirely shrinking as some of the soldiers in the Royal Army had so often done beneath Anthony's glare.
"Then why are you here?" Anthony demanded when the man appeared lost for words. It seemed that Cartwright was not the only one still learning the new duke's boundaries.Do people live to test my patience?Anthony wondered. Even his sisters had begun to do so, falling all too easily into their new lifestyle as high-class members of the ton. Anthony almost envied them how easily they had done so.
"I have received word from Lord St Clair, Your Grace," Mr Patterson explained, and Anthony's throat filled with bile. His heart hammered so hard in his chest that he felt as though it could be heard throughout the room's silence.
Having left the door to the patio open, Anthony glanced out of it, checking that his sisters were still at a great enough distance not to hear their conversation. The last thing he needed was for them to grow more excited at the idea of his impending nuptials.
Luckily, they were still someway off, enjoying the sunshine and the birds and butterflies that were fluttering all about them.This is all for them,he reminded himself, turning back to Mr Patterson to ask, "And? What does the man say?"
"He says that his niece and the lady Cecily shall be arriving in three weeks," Mr Patterson explained before quickly correcting himself, "though the letter was written a week ago, so I would say in two weeks."
Anthony's stomach twisted. That was even less time than he had thought, less time to prepare to meet the woman he was all but being forced to spend the rest of his life with. It was almost too much to bear, but a glance out the door reminded him once more of why he was doing it.
Having already given his sisters a taste of the good life, having unintentionally given them the chance to marry dukes and earls and maybe even if they were lucky, princes, he couldn't imagine ripping it all out from under them. Their smiles were everything to him, and he could not imagine the life they would lead if he were not able to pay off all the debt the late duke had left to him along with his estate.
This inheritance is as much a gift as it is a curse,Anthony realised. In all his years of working his way up the Army ladder, he had never once imagined finding himself sitting here, being called Your Grace and master of a dukedom with nothing to its name but debt. His only saving grace was that nobody in the ton appeared to know the full extent of his difficulties, and he would do all he could to keep it that way.
"Then we have two weeks to prepare to meet the young lady in London," Anthony announced, turning a pointed look on Cartwright. "Please see that Mrs Cartwright is made aware."
"Of course, Your Grace," Cartwright nodded, keeping his gaze firmly fixed across the room with his hands clasped behind his back, his spine so straight it was as if he had a broom strapped to him.
"Is there anything else I ought to know?" Anthony asked, seeing that the solicitor was practically fizzing before his eyes, clearly anxious still.What else could he possibly have to say?
"Lord St Clair has also seen fit to send forth half of the dowry before the impending wedding with a promise for the second to be delivered once the wedding has been consummated," Mr Patterson explained. Anthony's stomach clenched, and he had to bite the inside of his lip to stop from instantly yelling.
The Comte had all but ensured that there was no way Anthony could back out of the arrangements.Not that I had much choice in the first place,he thought, remembering once again the sorry state of his affairs and his lifelong savings, which had been eaten up the moment he tried to get out of the hole he found himself in.
"Is it enough to cover the debts?" he asked, the words sticking in his throat. His hands had begun to shake, and determined not to show any weakness at all, he quickly hid them beneath the desk's surface.
"Very nearly, Your Grace," Mr Patterson replied, not meeting the duke's gaze. If he had not been so concerned with what the man was telling him, Anthony might have been infuriated by the man's lack of backbone. "With the second half of the dowry, the debts should be paid with a little left over to keep your businesses running until the estate can get back on its feet again."
