by Quinn, Ella
“First Captain Jones and now you,” Jenny grumbled to her father. “I might have known you would have talked to him before putting poor Frank through an inquisition.”
Her father shrugged unapologetically. “I had to know if he could stand up to me, lass.”
Until Frank had met Jenny, he’d never let himself dream of the life he had wanted. But if he had, it would be this, a wife he loved, a child on the way, and a father who would be proud of him.
Epilogue
Seven months later.
Snow drifted onto the window sill outside, but a fire roared in the fireplace, making the bedchamber warm enough for the two babies Jenny held in her arms. A boy and a girl. Apparently, twins ran in Frank’s family.
The birth, the mid-wife said, was not hard, but you couldn’t have proven it by her father and husband. The first time she screamed, they both burst through the door, only to be soundly routed by the doctor and mid-wife. Now she and the babies were clean, she’d nursed them, and they were sleeping peacefully like little angels.
The door opened and, almost sheepishly, the two men she loved the most entered the room.
“Jenny.” Frank kissed her before stroking the cheek of the child nearest him. “Are you well?”
“I’m fine, as are the babies.”
Her father kissed her head, then the top of the baby on that side of the bed. “I know we’ve gone round and round with names. Have you settled on them yet?”
She looked down at the little girl who had a light covering of red hair on her head. “I would like her to be named Elizabeth Catherine. After our mothers.”
Frank nodded. “I agree. What about our son?
That was harder. When she’d broached the idea of naming a possible boy after her father he’d replied, “Nay, Angus. I’m honored, but it’s not an easy name to have.”
Naming a son after Frank’s father never came up in discussion, although his brother Damon’s name had.
“I would like to call him Daniel, after Mama’s father.”
“What would be his second name?” Frank asked.
“I thought Andrew, after your maternal grandfather.”
“Daniel Andrew it is.” Her father beamed. “By the way, I received a letter from Frank’s mother”—for reasons completely unknown to Frank and Jenny, her father and his mother had begun a correspondence—“It seems your brother Quartus’s bride is going to present her with a grandchild in the spring.”
“Quartus?” Frank’s mouth dropped open.
“But who did he marry?” Jenny asked, remembering their departure from London.
IT TAKES A HERO
Book 2, of The Trevors
Chapter 1
London Docks, May 1818.
“Quartus,” his father, the Duke of Somerset, growled. “I’ll not have another son in Town. You are coming with me.”
Quartus winked at his brother, Frank, and Frank’s new bride, Jenny, before responding, “I believe I’ll stay with Hawksworth and Meg for the Season. I am quite sure you can go on without me.”
“Quartus, get in this coach.” Father’s tone was as hard . . . harder, than Quartus had ever heard it before.
From the corner of his eye, he saw his brother and Jenny had boarded the dory that would take them to the ship sailing for America. Once he was sure the duke could no longer stop them, he glanced at his eldest brother and their father’s heir, Damon, Marquis of Hawksworth, who inclined his head toward Quartus slightly.
“As I said, I have decided to remain in Town for the nonce. I am certain you have no need of me.”
“May I remind you, young man, that you have a parish to see to?”
“May I remind you, that I resigned my position?” His father’s face assumed an alarming purplish hue. He might not like the duke very much, but he certainly didn’t want to be responsible for his death. Still, he had to be his own man. “Perhaps, Octavius would like the living.”
Quartus met the duke’s icy gaze with one of his own. Minutes seemed to pass before the older man nodded. “Very well remain here for the Season, but be warned, I will not increase your allowance, nor will I pay your debts.”
“Agreed.” He stood where he was until the ducal coach rolled down the street and was out of sight. “I hope you don’t mind putting up with me?”
“Not at all,” Meg, Hawksworth’s wife, said warmly. “We are delighted you will be staying with us for a while.” She linked her arm with Quartus’s turning him toward her carriage. “And do not worry about the expense. We are well able to support you for your Season.”
“Speaking of that, I think a trip to Weston’s is in order.” Hawksworth leveled his quizzing glass at Quartus. “As soon as possible.”
“I can’t be that bad.”
His brother raised one black brow, and Meg laughed lightly. “It is clear you have a great deal to learn.”
Ten days later, Quartus lounged against one of several Grecian columns in Lady Merton’s ballroom, his legs crossed. The first set had just begun and he watched as ladies dressed in every color of the rainbow, from soft pastels to brilliant hues, danced a Scottish reel. Despite the lessons and tutors his brother had hired for him, he was a little at loss as to how to go on. Being in the haut ton was much more complicated than he’d thought. “This is a bit . . . overwhelming.”
“Only at first,” Hawksworth replied. “You will soon become used to it.”
“Just take some time to become comfortable.” Meg had a sharp eye on the crowd, and Quartus wondered for what or whom she was looking. “Most of the ladies in white, cream or other pastel colored gowns are just out or in their second Season. The others are married, widowed, or have been out for a few years.”
“That’s helpful, thank you.” Not that he actually expected to find a lady he could conveniently fall in love with and marry. American heiresses, such as Jenny, were thin on the ground. During the past few weeks his status as a penniless younger son, thus his ineligibility for marriage, had been made clear to him by the match-making mamas of the ton. Nicely, of course. No one wished to alienate his brother, the future Duke of Somerset.
Yet, nothing Quartus had said would discourage Hawksworth and Meg. Between them, they had arranged dancing lessons, tailor’s appointments, an introduction to Damon’s club, Brooks’s, and managed to get Quartus kitted out and socially ready for his first introduction to the haut ton.
Meg, ever the optimist, was convinced that he would be able to find a wife who was independent and wealthy enough to withstand his dastard of a father. Another tick in the eligible column.
A stir started toward the front of the ballroom near the stairs, catching his attention. The butler made an announcement, but with the music and the whispering that had begun, he couldn’t hear what it was. Then a petite young woman with warm brown hair, accompanied by an older man, and a tall slender matron with red hair covered by a purple turban stepped forward.
For a moment it seemed as if everyone in the ballroom was holding their collective breaths, then the chattering began again, much louder than the first time.
“Who are they?” he asked without taking his eyes off the lady as she moved gracefully down the steps, candles catching golden strands in her hair.
“That is the new Duchess of Wharton.” Meg arched a brow. “At least, I assume you are asking about the younger lady.”
For some reason, Quartus felt disappointed by the news. “I take it that the gentleman with her is the duke.”
“Not at all.” Meg’s eyes had a sly look in them and the corners of her lips began to tremble a bit. “That is her father, Mr. Calder.”
“Is she widowed?” Quartus asked. Good Lord, was he going to have to pull every piece of information out of her? What a maddening woman his brother had wed.
“No. The older lady on her other side is Lady Tatiana Harrington an aunt of some sort.”
That didn’t make any sense. But at the rate this was going, he’d have to shake the information out of
his sister-in-law. “Meg!”
She glanced at Damon who quickly concealed his grin by taking a sip of champagne. “If you must know, she is a duchess in her own right.”
Quartus pushed himself off the pillar. He could not have heard her properly. “There is no such thing.”
“Indeed there is,” Meg pronounced. “There may be only one of them, and the situation is rare, but the title is real none the less.”
Damon raised his quizzing glass. “Is she not the lady your mother took you to visit the other day?”
“Just so,” Meg confirmed. “She appears to be very down to earth, and I liked her a great deal.” Linking her arm with Quartus’s she stepped in the direction of the duchess. “Come, I shall introduce you.”
“For what reason?” Good Lord, if mothers of baronet’s daughters did not think him eligible, how the deuce would he be suitable for a duchess? “She’ll be looking to marry as high as she can.”
“I am not suggesting you propose to her,” Meg retorted, casting her eyes to the ceiling. “You might ask her to dance though.”
Her grace’s sets were most likely all taken. After all, the lady was lovely. Small and round in all the right places. She reminded him of a plump partridge. As they approached he could see her eyes were an interesting shade of blue, more like turquoise. When she laughed at something her aunt said it was not a false titter, but a full sound that came from deep within her.
“Your Grace.” Meg curtseyed.
“Oh please. I asked you to call me Anna,” the duchess said, her blue eyes twinkling.
“What have I told you,” the aunt said in a repressive tone. “Not in public.”
“Ah, yes. My lady, so good to see you again.” Her voice was regal, but her pert nose scrunched up.
Meg rose. “Please allow me to introduce my husband, Lord Hawksworth, and his younger brother, Lord Quartus Trevor.”
The duchess held her hand out first to his brother. “I am very happy to meet you, my lord.”
“I’m pleased to meet you as well, Your Grace.” Damon bowed dutifully.
She offered her hand to Quartus. “And you Lord Quartus. How do you do?”
“Very well, Your Grace.” He took her small slender hand and a sense of well-being infused him. Glancing up he could swear her eyes widened at their contact. And he threw caution and good sense to the wind. “Do you happen to have a dance available?”
Meg cleared her throat. “Lady Tatiana, please allow me to introduce Lord Quartus.”
“Forgive me, Lady Tatiana. My mother would have my head to see me so rag mannered.”
Anna remembered seeing him when she entered the ballroom. By the look on his face, she’d thought he was bored. Yet now, she would swear Lord Quartus was blushing. How interesting.
Aunt Tatiana curtseyed, but not only did she not offer her hand, her body was ridged with disapproval, and Anna decided to cover for her aunt’s lack of welcome. “Almost all of them, my lord. This is my first evening event.” He appeared surprised, then smiled, and she decided to take matters into her own hands. “Perhaps the next set, if you are free.”
“I am indeed. This is my first evening event as well.”
“In that case, we should have much to discuss.” Anna gave him a warm smile. If he had been put through what she’d been, he had her sympathies.
Her aunt she sniffed as if a foul odor was in the air. She had never known the woman to be so disagreeable.
“Your name is very unusual, my lord,” Anna said. “Does it stand for anything in particular?”
“I am the fourth son. There was a still born baby before me—”
“Suffice it to say, Your Grace,” Lord Hawksworth cut in. “That our father lacks the temperament to find suitable names for the children he sires. Nor will he allow anyone else to do it.”
“My understanding is that he lacks temperament at all.” Lady Tatiana said.
“Aunt—” Anna began, mortified at the woman’s want of tact and kindness.
“Her ladyship does not offend me”—Lord Hawksworth nodded toward his brother—“or, I am sure, my brother. However, your aunt is incorrect. Our father does indeed have a temperament, all bad. It is a bane to his family.”
The sound of violins being tuned floated across the ballroom ending the discussion, for which Anna was grateful. If anything was more awkward than this conversation, she had never experienced it.
“The set will be forming soon,” Meg Hawksworth murmured, taking her husband’s arm. “My lord?”
“My lady.” Her husband bowed. “As always, it is my pleasure to stand up with you.”
Her eyes sparkled, and Anna could see the deep love the Hawksworths had for each other. Despite everything her great aunt had tried to teach her over the past several months, that was what she wanted for herself. A man she could love who would love her in return.
Lord Quartus held out his arm to her. “Your Grace?”
“Thank you.” She placed her hand on his arm, and he led her to where the other dancers were taking their places.
“This will be the first time I have waltzed with anyone other than my poor sister-in-law.” He grimaced. “She took to wearing her riding boots until I stopped stepping on her toes.”
Anna couldn’t help but laugh. “This will be the first time I’ve danced the waltz with anyone other than my father and the dancing master. I believe that makes us even, my lord.”
“The blind leading the blind’ I shall try not to disgrace either of us.”
They bowed and curtseyed. He placed one large palm on her waist, and held her hand with the other, as she placed her fingers on his shoulder. She was astonished at how comfortable she felt with his hands on her. Oh dear. She probably should not think of it in quite that way. She would most likely feel the same with any other gentleman. This was simply a new experience.
When they began to move, she was able to easily follow him. In fact, it was a little like floating on a cloud. A moving cloud. Then again, clouds did move.
For several moments, they did not speak. Each of them concentrating on their steps, then he grinned. “I think we’re doing quite well for our first time.”
“Yes, indeed.” Anna let out the breath she’d been holding. “I shall have to thank your sister for the pain she suffered.”
Lord Quartus barked a laugh, and heads turned toward them, but Anna didn’t care. Not when his light blue eyes lit with so much joy, an emotion that seemed to be lacking in the ton.
“Tell me, my lord, why is this your first ball? I thought all young men spent time in London after their studies were completed.”
“Most do,” he replied in a dry tone that rang of what? Disapproval perhaps? “On the other hand, most are lucky enough not to have my father as their sire.”
He did not elaborate as she hoped. That was the second reference to the duke, and neither of them had been good. Her interest was definitely piqued.
“I suppose it would be considered rude of me to ask more about the duke?”
“He is not a pleasant topic of conversation.” Lord Quartus smiled but it was one of the forced polite smiles she detested. “Let us change the subject,” he said. “Where are you from?”
Perhaps if she got to know him better he would confide in her. “The West Indies. Tortola to be precise.”
“Truly?” Once again his countenance was alight. “How interesting. Did you always know you would become a duchess?”
Anna waited until they completed the turn before answering, “Not at all. It came as a complete shock, and I’m still not quite sure it was a welcome one.”
“Do you mean you do not wish to be a duchess?”
“Well, there is not much sense in not wishing to be a duchess.” She shrugged lightly. “It is not as if I have a choice. If I do not perform my duties”—one of which was to marry, but she would not tell him that—“my people and properties would suffer.”
“You make a good point.” Lord Quartus’s forehead creased f
aintly. “I’m interested in how it came about. When Meg first mentioned your rank, I thought she was mistaken.”
“Ah, well”—Anna began to pull her bottom lip between her teeth, but thought better of it as he twirled her around—“The title has been around since the time of the War of the Roses. Once of my ancestress performed a duty or favor—I am not sure I wish to know what it was—to the crown and she was made a duchess in her own right. Through the years, most of the children have been born female, and the title passed down through the ladies. Apparently, my great aunt had three girls. My grandmother, who was the next oldest, married and had my mother. To make a long story short, everyone on my side of the family seemed to have forgotten about the title. Strange I know. Although, to be fair, my mother died when I was a child. Perhaps if she had lived, she would have mentioned it. At the end of the day, the other heirs died without issue. Aunt Tatiana, the youngest of my grandmother’s sisters, tracked me down, and here I am.”
“Fascinating.” His tone was quiet, thoughtful. “I suppose England is rather different from the West Indies.”
“It is and much colder.” Anna gave a dramatic shiver even though the ballroom was quite warm. “The society is different as well. Everyone knew me and, in turn, I knew everyone. There were no surprises. No worries that one misstep could harm one.”
“I would love to visit the West Indies at some point.” His voice was wistful, as if traveling could only be a dream.
“In that case, you should do so,” Anna replied bracingly. It disturbed her that he seemed melancholy at times. Ladies always seemed to be constrained, but she had never met a gentleman who was so burdened. The music ended and he brought them to a stop with a flourish. “Nicely done, my lord. I greatly enjoyed dancing with you.”
“And I you, Your Grace.” For a long moment, his eyes seemed to search hers. “May I request the supper dance?”