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Chapter Two
Coming back to Dunleer Manor was one thing Stephen didn’t think he would have to do. At least, not so soon—if one considered after ten years to be too soon.
Still, as his carriage shook along the ruts of the street, he couldn’t help the unnerving feeling in the pit of his stomach. He flexed his fingers against his knee, gazing out the window at the sights that were so familiar yet altogether different. The last time he’d been in at, the manor was filled with bad memories and he was beginning to see how difficult it was not to attach the negative feelings to his surroundings.
At least my Mother should be some source of comfort.
He could remember it clearly, that day. The day he’d decided to cast aside his longing for peace and confront his father, the late Duke of Dunleer, about his wrongdoings. That day lead to ten years away from this place. Ten years pursuing his own dreams and running from the memories of the past. Ten years without seeing his mother, knowing she was still in the manor, alone.
Stephen wrote to her regularly and had become complacent due to it, eager to cling to any excuse not to go back to the manor. Now, there was no escaping his duty.
He stopped flexing his fingers as the carriage pulled up to the manor. The familiar sight brought up such mixed feelings that he could do nothing but sit and stare for a moment. This was where he had grown up, where he had all those wonderful memories—memories that had been tainted by his father.
Pulling his shoulders back, Stephen left the carriage. His steward instantly began organizing the servants to bring in his luggage, and he left them to do so, eager to see his mother.
She was waiting for him in the grand foyer, her hands clasped together. At the sight of her face, of her mature beauty draped in finery, he couldn’t help rushing up to her and enveloping her into a tight hug.
“Stephen, my dear,” she breathed as she hugged back just as tightly as he did. It felt nice having her in his arms, feeling his mother’s frame next to his once more. Stephen didn’t realize just how he had missed her until this moment.
She pulled away, smiling. He remembered a time when he was much, much younger, when she would smile with abandon. Now, her smile was just as beautiful, but perhaps not as encompassing. “I’d forgotten how tall you are,” she said. “Or have you grown a few inches before you left?”
“I think I did all the growing I could possibly do already, Mother,” he said on a chuckle.
Her light blue eyes, that seemed to have faded in color through age, raked down the rest of him and she frowned. “And why are you dressed like this?”
“Like what?”
“Like a commoner?” The Dowager Duchess of Dunleer crumpled her nose at the sight of him and she took a step back. “You must have forgotten that you would be returning here a Duke, Stephen.”
“Believe me, Mother,” he said, feeling a tad weary all of a sudden. “There is no possible way I could have forgotten that.”
No, it was the only thing I could think about the entire way home.
He saw the struggle on her face as she tried to fix her expression. He wasn’t sure it worked very well. She tucked her arm into his and began to lead him out of the foyer. Stephen tried not to look around the walls, at the memories that were clustered in every corner, lining the wallpaper, filling his every thought. He focused on his mother’s body next to his, patting her hand in comfort as if that would remind him of who he was here to be.
Not a Marquess but a Duke.
“Relax, Mother,” he said when he caught her studying his style of dressing once more. “Things are much more relaxed in the Far East and they aren’t as stringent with how we dress as they are here in England.”
“I can understand that,” she said lowly. “But why would you show up to London looking like that?”
He shrugged. “I suppose I simply grew accustomed to it. It’s quite comfortable. Simple, really.”
“It’s horrible to look at. If your luggage is filled with things like this, then I will have to get better clothing for you. You cannot possibly walk around London looking like that.”
He tried not to sigh. It had been a while since he’d last been subjected to his mother’s judgment. She’d led him to the drawing room where tea and pastries had already been prepared. Realizing just how hungry he was, Stephen instantly went for one of the small cakes on display.
“You are now the Duke of Dunleer, Stephen,” the Dowager went on strongly, watching as he bit into a cake and crumbs went everywhere.
Perhaps not the most fitting image to display when being reminded that I am a Duke.
“You should look and act the part.”
Stephen knew this day would come. No matter how much he had tried to ignore it, to focus on other things, he knew his father would not last forever and that he would be forced to accept his inheritance.
When he left this place ten years ago, he’d joined the army and served three years. And then when that ended, desperate to stay away, he went to oversee his grandfather’s spice industry in India. Content to simply write to his mother often, Stephen was happy to be as far away from London as he possibly could be.
But when he received a letter from his mother saying his father passed away, he knew he couldn’t stay in India. The letter had taken a while to come, so although he’d only been aware of it for a month, his father has been dead for six.
