by Syrie James
The duke’s solicitor, Mr. Megowan, was a pleasant gentleman with intelligent eyes who looked to be about forty years of age. He inquired about the scope of the work upon which Kathryn had embarked and listened with interest as she gave him an overview.
It was a pleasure to see the dowager duchess again, and the feeling seemed to be mutual. The duke seemed equally pleased to have Kathryn’s company at the table. The foursome made for a companionable party as they ate and exchanged pleasantries.
When the main course was presented, a roast pork with carrots and savory potatoes, the duke introduced a new subject. “Grandmother, is it true that you and Grandfather used to host an annual summer fête for the children of St. Gabriel’s Mount and Rosquay?”
“Yes, we did. Lord, I haven’t thought about that in years. It was your grandfather’s pride and joy, that fête. A shame your father let the tradition lapse. The children always seemed to enjoy it.”
“You haven’t heard, then?” the duke replied. “Before he died, Hayward resurrected the notion.”
“Did he?” The dowager duchess pursed her lips. “Now that you mention it, I believe Hayward did say something about a Children’s Fête. I never thought he’d actually go through with it.”
“There are signs up all over the village announcing it. It is scheduled for the end of the month.”
Kathryn smiled. “What a lovely idea.”
“Yes, tremendous,” the duchess agreed, sipping her wine. “I am sure it will be a great success.”
“Actually, Grandmother,” the duke said casually, “I was hoping that you would chair the thing.”
“Me? Oh heavens, no,” the duchess drawled. “I am much too old to undertake something like that.”
“But surely, since you’ve hosted the fête before,” he insisted, “it would not be too great a challenge to undertake it one more time?”
“You are talking about a party for a hundred children,” the duchess retorted. “An event of that magnitude must be planned out to the last detail. It requires a host or hostess with a great deal of energy. I am afraid I am past that now, darling. In any case, it was always more your grandfather’s affair than mine.”
The duke nodded, clearly disappointed.
“I shouldn’t think it would be a problem to cancel it, Darcy,” Mr. Megowan offered. “It was your brother’s idea, after all. Surely people will understand.”
“I hoped the same, until I spoke to people in the village today. Everyone seems to have their hearts set on it.”
“Did you ever attend the fête as a boy, Your Grace?” Kathryn asked.
“I did, once,” the duke replied. “I must have been very young. I believe there were lawn games. And cake.”
“It will be a challenge, Lancelot,” the dowager duchess said, “but I feel certain you are up to it.”
“Am I?” Lord Darcy didn’t look happy about it. “Give me command of a ship, and I am in my element. Ask me to lead three hundred and fifty men in a cutlass drill, do spherical trigonometry, or find my position by the sun or moon with a nautical sextant, and I am your man. But I know absolutely nothing about children, and even less about children’s parties.”
Kathryn found his honesty and lack of confidence disarming. “Compared to commanding a ship of three hundred and fifty men, Your Grace, hosting a Children’s Fête is child’s play. Pun intended.”
He arched both brows at her. “And you know this . . . how?”
“When I was a girl, my church in Upstate New York held such events every summer. As we grew older, my sisters and I helped host them. We called them children’s fairs, not fêtes, but I imagine they are the same thing. When did you say the event is to take place?”
“July thirty-first.”
“Well, then, you have three weeks to plan. You’re right: you will need cake! Lots of it. Perhaps a few other refreshments and a beverage as well. Your cook can take charge of that. In addition to lawn games you’ll need a few other activities, some entertainers, perhaps. And prize ribbons and party favors, of course.”
He looked lost now. “Prize ribbons? Party favors?”
“You cannot hope to have a successful children’s party without them. The winners of every game and race must be awarded ribbons for first, second, and third place. Not everyone can be a winner, so you want each child to take home a small gift of some kind. Something to set on their bedside table, to look at and remember the day. And the duke who gave it to them.”
The duke appeared overwhelmed. “You make it sound so simple. Yet I know it is not.”
Mr. Megowan let out a laugh. “Darcy, it’s quite clear who ought to be hosting your Children’s Fête. She’s sitting across from you.”
“Now there’s a thought.” The duke graced Kathryn with a radiant smile. “Would you, Miss Atherton?”
Kathryn didn’t know what to say. “Your Grace, there’s no guarantee that I’ll still be here three weeks from now. Even if I were, I have a mammoth task ahead of me that will take every moment of my time.”
“Couldn’t you find a moment or two, here or there,” Lord Darcy implored, “to at least help me plan this? For the sake of the children?” He gave her such a pleading look, and invested the last sentence with such sweet and impish emotion, Kathryn couldn’t help but laugh.
“Well. For the sake of the children,” she replied, “I suppose I could.”
The duke looked as if she had just offered him diamonds of worth beyond measure. “Thank you, Miss Atherton.”
Kathryn suddenly realized she’d made yet another blunder. She’d been determined to maintain her distance from him over the coming weeks. Now she’d just offered to assist him in planning a party. She wanted to smack herself.
Dragging her gaze away from the duke, she noticed that Mr. Megowan was studying her with a peculiar look on his face.
“Miss Atherton,” the solicitor said slowly, “where did you say you grew up?”
“Upstate New York.”
He gave a sharp intake of breath. “I thought, when we were introduced, that I’d heard your name before.”
Kathryn’s stomach clenched in dismay. Oh no.
“Are you at all connected with the Atherton family in New York City?” he went on. “The banking tycoon—what is his name—Colis Atherton?”
Lance glanced across the table at Miss Atherton.
“Um,” she said.
He couldn’t account for the uncomfortable look on her face. Megowan had asked a perfectly innocent question.
“Ah—yes!” his grandmother cried, wide-eyed. “I, too, thought your name sounded familiar. Now I know why.”
“The Athertons of New York are as rich as the Vanderbilts,” Megowan put in. “The daughters are all heiresses.”
Miss Atherton seemed to be struggling for a reply. Lance thought he would save her the trouble. “What are you both on about? Our Miss Atherton cannot be related to that family. An American heiress would never work for a living. It’s preposterous.”
“Is it?” His grandmother fixed her eyes on Miss Atherton like a hawk.
Why, Lance wondered, wasn’t Miss Atherton negating the idea with a laugh? Instead, she was twisting her linen napkin in her hands as if she were wringing out a towel. Was she afraid they would think less of her, for being unconnected to these famous Athertons?
“I’m sorry if these inquiries have made you uncomfortable, Miss Atherton,” Lance said. “I feel certain that your name is quite common in America.”
“Actually,” she intoned a bit awkwardly, “it’s not that common. And the truth is . . . Colis Atherton is my father.”
Lance stared at her, too astonished for words.
“Then you must be the third heiress?” Mr. Megowan speculated, his eyebrows lifting.
Miss Atherton gave a reluctant, confirming nod.
“I know of your sisters!” his grandmother exclaimed, turning to Lance with enthusiasm. “Perhaps you are unaware, Lance, as you have been away so long at sea. Two of the A
therton heiresses married Cornish noblemen. The Earl of Longford married the eldest daughter. Her fortune, I am told, quite revitalized Polperran House. The Earl of Saunders—heir of the Marquess of Trevelyan, with whom I am somewhat acquainted—married the second daughter.” To Miss Atherton she added, “I have not yet had the pleasure to meet the new countesses, as I rarely travel anymore. But everyone in Cornwall knows their stories.”
Lance realized he had heard the stories. They’d made headlines in any number of newspapers five or six years ago. Two American heiresses who had stolen the hearts of Cornish peers. He recalled, as well, the primary reason for the public’s fascination with these women: it was because they each came with a huge dowry.
How huge? He couldn’t remember.
“Why did you not say anything about this, Miss Atherton?” Lance asked her in wonderment.
She let out a long sigh. “Because I didn’t want to be seen as That American Heiress. Which is the way the newspapers and much of society refer to me and my sisters. I worried that if you knew, it would be difficult for you to separate the heiress from the architect. I wanted to get this job on my own merits.”
“And so you did, my dear,” his grandmother commended.
“Forgive me if this seems impertinent,” Megowan interjected, “but if you are an heiress, why are you working at all?”
“A good question,” Lance heard himself blurt. “Coming from such a prominent family, Miss Atherton, surely you have no need to pursue a career?”
Miss Atherton frowned, then shot back at him, “Why did you serve in the Royal Navy for nineteen years, Lord Darcy?”
He groped for a reply. “My father sent me up when I was a boy. He insisted that I have a profession.”
“But as the second son of a duke, you had no real need to work, did you? When your brother inherited the title, you hadn’t yet signed on for continuous service. You could have left the Navy and lived comfortably on a stipend from him for the rest of your life. Couldn’t you?”
Lance pondered that. “So I could have, I suppose.”
“Yet you stayed,” she continued, impassioned, “because committing yourself every single day to an enterprise which you came to love and believe in gave you such immense satisfaction, you couldn’t imagine life without it. Am I right?”
He nodded slowly. “Your point is taken, Miss Atherton. You are saying that it is the same for you.”
“I know my strengths and talents, Lord Darcy. I want to employ them in a real occupation, as men do, where I can make a difference in the world. Someday, I hope to run my own architectural firm, to design great buildings and bring them to life.”
“It takes courage to pursue such a dream,” his grandmother declared. “In my day, no young lady born to the manor would ever think of working. I commend you for your bravery.”
“Are your parents supportive of your choice?” Megowan asked dubiously.
“No,” Miss Atherton admitted. “My mother has been against it from the start. Her goal in life was to have all three of her daughters marry a British nobleman. My sisters granted her wish, albeit not to please her. In my case, she is destined to be disappointed. I am resolved to make my own way in the world, even if it means giving up my fortune.”
“Giving it up?” asked Mr. Megowan.
“My father has made it clear that he will only give me a dowry if and when I marry.”
“You are a true Modern Woman, Miss Atherton,” his grandmother remarked with admiration.
“Indeed you are,” Lance agreed. Again, he wondered just how large Miss Atherton’s dowry was. His grandmother’s next statement answered the question.
“To turn your back on a million dollars is no easy feat, my dear.”
Lance started inwardly. A million dollars?
That was the size of this woman’s fortune. If and when she married, she would get—technically, her husband would get—a million dollars. The phrase resounded in his brain like lightning inside a can.
He quickly did the math. It was the equivalent of £200,000. An almost unheard of sum.
In a flash, Lance realized that the answer to all his problems was sitting right across the table from him, as if it had been handed to him on a silver platter. Miss Atherton wasn’t just an architect in training. She was a million-dollar heiress.
“Now that you both know,” Miss Atherton was saying, “I hope it will not make any difference with regard to the work I have undertaken here.”
“Of course not,” Lance replied. “It makes no difference whatsoever.”
But oh yes, it did.
Chapter Nine
“The timing is uncanny.” As he paced back and forth in the smoking room after dinner, Lance felt as though he were embedding a permanent path in the carpet.
Megowan sat in a chair by the fireplace, nursing a glass of whiskey.
“I had already decided that I must sacrifice myself,” Lance went on, “that I had no choice but to marry for money, with no expectation that said marriage could make me happy.” Lance whirled in his tracks to face his friend. “And now this chance has been presented to me. A suitable companion—more than suitable, a very desirable companion—has landed right on my doorstep.”
“The other day, if you had mentioned that her name was Atherton,” Megowan put in, “I could have enlightened you as to who she probably was. Everyone knows that Colis Atherton is one of the richest men in America. And everyone who’s anyone in Cornwall knows that two of his daughters married earls in this county.”
“I didn’t know. I have been at sea for nearly two decades. I never pay attention to the society papers.”
“A million-dollar dowry does not come along very often.” The look on Megowan’s face reflected his incredulous delight with this turn of events. “Marrying Miss Atherton will solve all your problems in a heartbeat.”
“Won’t it, though? I can pay off the loans and still have plenty left over to update the castle, to take care of all the problems in the village.”
“You’ll never have to worry about money again.”
“If a fortune-teller had told me two months ago that I would inherit St. Gabriel’s Mount and want to marry the daughter of an American banker, I would have laughed in her face.” Lance shook his head in disbelief. “Fate takes us strange places, doesn’t it?”
“It is a real stroke of luck, Darcy. Although, I mean to say, admittedly, this has all happened rather fast. You only just met a few days ago.”
“True. But in that time, I feel as though I have gotten to know her. She is charming, talented, intelligent. And beautiful. You saw all that yourself. And you saw what happened when I brought up the Children’s Fête. She had all the right ideas at her fingertips. She would be the ideal person to run any number of similar, future events.”
“In short, she would make an ideal duchess.”
“She would.”
“As long as she is willing to give up this ridiculous career business of hers,” Megowan mused.
“That goes without saying,” Lance agreed.
“It is an odd choice in any case, isn’t it? An American heiress pursuing a profession? And of all things, architecture? What can she be thinking?”
“She is setting herself up to fail. I may have agreed to work with her, but how many other people will? She could be as skilled as Da Vinci and it won’t make a bit of difference. Her school of architecture refused to grant her a diploma. I’d bet my last pound that they’ll never give her a license.”
Megowan nodded. “She is a woman in a man’s business. She has chosen to travel an impossible road.”
“I’ll be doing her a favor by marrying her.”
“When do you intend to ask her?”
“I was thinking tomorrow morning.”
“So soon?” Megowan looked at him. “I don’t mean to play devil’s advocate, Darcy. No one knows better than I how desperately you need that money. But I feel I would be remiss if I didn’t point out . . .”
“
What?”
“Marriage is for life. Shouldn’t you take a little more time to get to know her, to make certain she is the one you want before you commit yourself? You still have three months before the loan is due.”
“I could have three years, and I wouldn’t find a better companion who just happens to have the money I require,” Lance insisted.
“I don’t suppose love is expected to enter the equation?”
“Love?” Lance scoffed. He knew that love existed and thrived in some relationships. His parents had loved each other, after all, and had been very happy. But . . . “For me, love just causes humiliation and heartache. I learned that the hard way.”
“All that happened a long time ago, Darcy. You might still fall in love again, with a better result. If you give it a chance.”
“No. Miss Atherton and I are attracted to each other. That is sufficient.”
For Lance’s part, that attraction had started at first sight, and had become almost combustible that same night when they had gotten their hands and lips on each other. Try as he might, Lance hadn’t been able to stop thinking about their tryst in the billiards room.
Not that he was going to share that with his solicitor.
Whatever else the future might hold, Lance knew with certainty that he and Miss Atherton would get along just fine in bed.
“I need a wife and heir, and I need money. I don’t need love into the bargain. Miss Atherton will make the perfect bride.”
“Well, then, as you say. This chance has fallen in your lap and you had better take it.” Megowan sipped his whiskey. “Does she know about your debts?”
“Er . . .” Lance felt a dash of guilt. “She asked about my financial status. I was not exactly truthful.”
“An heiress deserves to know what her dowry will be used for. Don’t you think?”
“Yes.” Lance crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the fireplace with a frown. “Were I to bring it up now, though, it would be a bit awkward, I feel. I would have to explain why I lied.”