[Billionaire Duke 01.0] The Billionaire Duke

by Gina Robinson

  I'd never heard any family lore about being currently related to anyone above the rank of homeless drunk. My family more closely resembled the characters of Oliver Twist than anything else. If Thorne had told me I had descended from the inspiration for the Artful Dodger, I wouldn't have been surprised.

  I wasn't into genealogy. Hadn't bothered to care about Dad's side of the family. Certainly had no interest in digging it up. Mostly I'd fought to forget it.

  Neither Thorne nor I blinked.

  Being related to a duke sounded like something out of a fairytale. Or Now You See Me. A great, big, fat con.

  "A duke? Really?" I said with a high degree of skepticism. "There are, what? About thirty-five non-royal dukes in all of Britain? He was a British duke, I assume, given my ancestry. Not Scottish or Irish." I wanted to see how far Thorne would take things.

  "Very British," Thorne said. "There are twenty-four non-royal dukes." His expression was neutral as he corrected me.

  "Even a rarer breed than I thought." Mine had been an educated guess. I'd overestimated on purpose. It would have been easy enough to Google.

  "Your heritage is quite exceptional. The Duke of Witham was created by Queen Victoria in 1874 for the Earl of Witham for his exemplary service to the Crown in India. Highly unusual, given it was rumored he was a spy for the Crown."

  "Let me get this straight," I said. "She elevated him from an earl to a duke as a way of saying thank you?"

  Thorne nodded. "Precisely."

  "For being a spy. Seems like a nice gesture."

  "It was brilliant. Very generous of the queen. Spies are rarely given a peerage. And in cases where they inherit a title, prohibited from spying, no matter how honorable the cause. No one trusts a liar, especially with a seat in the House of Lords."

  I resisted saying most politicians were liars anyway. A spy was at least honest about it.

  "The early earl was, by all historical accounts, a different breed altogether. He was already a spy, and, having been raised in India and serving as a soldier, a bit of a wild hare, when he assumed the earldom.

  "He had been far down in the line of succession until a tragic accident took the lives of all direct heirs shortly before his predecessor's death, stunning society. He had neither been raised in society, nor trained in the responsibilities incumbent in the position.

  "When the old earl passed on, the first Rans Feldhem, whom the late duke was named after, was a only a distant cousin, but the heir nonetheless." Thorne gave me a piercing look.

  History repeating itself, I thought.

  "He took on the title to the dismay of many of the peers of his day. It was also rumored that his mother was an Indian rani. Another circumstance not in his favor.

  "His countess, however, was lovely. And rumored to have been instrumental in preserving the earldom, and later, growing the holdings of the dukedom. A good duchess can make all the difference to a dukedom."

  Thorne crossed his legs and continued his study of me. I assumed I was supposed to be impressed. Or scandalized. He was a good storyteller, if nothing else.

  "If there was a duke in the family, he must have been an embarrassment to the aristocracy," I said, coolly, hoping to make Thorne sweat with my skepticism. And show him I wasn't a sucker easily buying this. Dukes, right. "The Feldhems, in my experience, are all reprobates."

  "His Grace was an excellent lord of the estate." Thorne sounded defensive for the first time. But he made no attempt to reassure me the Dead Duke had been a great guy, well loved, and admired.

  There you had it. Power and status didn't make the Dead Duke likable.

  "The duke did exist, I assure you," Thorne said, understandably ruffled.

  I'd just called him a liar. Politely, but still.

  "I have served as his solicitor for many years. But if you would rather not take my word, I have the paperwork with me to prove it." He tapped the envelope. "And you are…incorrect. The name of Feldhem is held in high regard in the highest circles of British society. Every family has its black sheep. It is unfortunate if your association has been with only those members of your family who have not lived up to the name. Rest assured, you can be proud of your ancestry, really."

  I shook my head again. I was beginning to believe Thorne. If he was a fake, he was a convincing one. My gut said he was genuine. I hadn't succeeded in business without having a knack for spotting liars. "I would have liked to have met him."

  "The late duke was a reclusive man," Thorne said. "And very old. A hundred and five at his passing. He rarely saw visitors. Especially these last twenty-five years. He hadn't allowed children in his presence since 1970, I believe. He didn't like them. I regret to say, he would not have received you."

  "Sounds like a great guy." I grinned. "Like the rest of the family." I paused. "You said you have good news? Did he leave me something? A family heirloom?"

  "You might say so, yes. He left you a dukedom, Your Grace."

  Chapter 2

  Riggins

  "Your Grace?" I laughed, not sure I should have been amused. "I'm a duke now, am I?"

  I shook my head, stunned. If this was true, the selection committee for Seattle's Hottest Bachelor was going to be sorry they hadn't waited a few days to make their decision. A duke, real aristocracy, a real title, had to beat Lazer out of hottest bachelor status.

  "You'll forgive my disbelief," I said. "Now I will have to see some proof."

  Thorne shoved the envelope across the coffee table to me. "It's all in there."

  I took the envelope, opened it with a cautious eye on Thorne, and skimmed the paperwork. It looked legit to me. I would, of course, run it past my lawyer, Harry Lawrence. Still wary, I quickly Googled the Duke of Witham. Dozens of news articles in British newspapers and blogs about him, and his recent death, popped up. It would have been hard to fake this much coverage.

  I shoved the paperwork back across the table to Thorne and made a snap decision. I didn't need this shit. The headaches of running a dukedom, however small, on top of Flash? A dukedom was like a small company in itself. My life was good as it was.

  "I decline. Sorry for your trouble." I rocked forward in my chair, ready to stand and see him to the door.

  Thorne remained seated, clearly not taking the hint. "I'm sorry, Your Grace. You can't decline. It's a hereditary title. It's yours whether you want it or not. What you do with it is, of course, your business. Within the bounds of the entailment."

  He paused. "Now that I've delivered the news, shall I schedule a meeting through your assistant to go over the details of the estate and your new responsibilities?"

  I paused, choosing my words carefully. "I'm honored. I am. I'm sure there are plenty of British men who would kill to be dukes. There has to be someone else who can take the title and do a damn fine job with it.

  "But I'm an American, more than anything. I don't have the vaguest idea how to be a duke. I understand only enough to realize that if there's an estate involved, I simply don't have time to run it. Or be as involved as a duke should be." I stood. "There aren't enough hours in the day as it is. With all due respect, I abdicate, then."

  "You can't abdicate. Only kings and queens abdicate. The only way to lose the title is through death." There was that sympathetic look again. "About that meeting?"

  I dropped back into my chair and glanced at my watch. Thorne had been in my office less than ten minutes and had managed to turn my life entirely upside down. What the hell kind of havoc could he wreak in an hour or more?

  I drummed my fingers on my desk, irritated with this new nuisance, trying desperately to come up with a way to get out of it. "I have a few minutes still. Now is as good a time as any."

  I grabbed my phone and texted Jennifer to make sure I wasn't disturbed, and asked her to reschedule my afternoon meetings. I got the feeling this might take a while. And afterward, I'd need a stiff drink. "Let me just call my lawyer. Harry can be here in a few minutes."

  "Of course, you will want your solicitor
to look over the paperwork. But may I request a few minutes first, to go over the essential details in private?"

  I stared at Thorne, not liking the direction this was taking. I shrugged. "All right. Give it to me straight. Was the family's ancestral home lost to taxes years ago?"

  I was hoping to get lucky and be a duke mostly in title only. Hoping there was very little left to the estate.

  Contrary to Thorne's assertion, if the Dead Duke had been a true Feldhem, he would have mismanaged everything he touched and squandered every penny he'd inherited.

  "Actually, Your Grace, I'm happy to report that your finances are remarkably sound. Witham House is a beautiful estate on three thousand acres, fully and gorgeously maintained and restored by the late duke. You have inherited no debt at all. Even after inheritance taxes, you will still be a wealthy man."

  I shook my head and laughed. "Of course I will! I'm a billionaire in my own right."

  "My mistake. I should have said the dukedom alone would make you a wealthy man. In your particular case, your wealth will increase."

  "Good," I said, taking a fair amount of joy out of being wealthier than Lazer. There was that.

  Thorne pulled more paperwork out of his briefcase. "All of the details of your inheritance are contained here, in the late duke's will. Along with instructions on your responsibilities as the new duke."

  I took them without looking at them. "I don't need to see these. I'll hand them off to my lawyer and see what he makes of them. As for being the new duke"—I grinned—"that's easy. If I have to keep the title, fine. I'll be a duke in title only. I'm not leaving Seattle and my business for England. I'm liquidating the estate at the first opportunity."

  Thorne watched me impassively, almost as if he'd been expecting my reaction. "The estate is entailed, Your Grace."

  Obviously, I wasn't ignorant of business affairs, but I was unschooled in British inheritance laws.

  "Meaning?" I said.

  "You don't own the title to the property outright. You are restricted from selling it by the terms of the entailment, which were set up centuries ago." He paused, studying me with a masked expression. "You obviously understand corporations. Think of the entailment like a corporation. It is a legal body that continues to exist over generations. Ideally, it holds wealth indefinitely and passes the power of wealth down the family line. In this case, to you. You are only the trustee, the steward, the CEO of this corporation for your lifetime."

  "Are you sure I can't pass this title and estate onto the next in line?" I was grasping for anything.

  "You are the last in line, the last living Feldhem male. There is no one else."

  I cursed beneath my breath. "So I'm stuck with this?"

  I was still trying to come to terms with my new "good fortune." Just my luck to be stuck with an albatross. I thought suddenly of Mom and her insistence that I maintain my British citizenship. Had she known this was a possibility?

  "I have no ties, no sentimental attachment either to my family or to the family estate. I haven't been raised or trained to be a duke. I'm incredibly busy running my own business. I don't have time to run a dukedom. It won't be my top priority.

  "Three thousand acres?" I whistled beneath my breath. "And an estate. I'm just not a good candidate for the job. What happens if I mismanage the estate? Or lose it? The best I can do is hire a competent manager. And you know how being an absentee owner goes. No one cares as much as the owner." I laughed softly at the irony. "Generally, anyway." I sighed. "Competent managers are hard to find…"

  I paused, my mind racing to find a solution. "Here's an idea—what if I donate it to the National Trust? Is there anything in the law that forbids me from donating it for the enjoyment of the British people? That way everyone wins."

  Thorne sighed. "The late duke anticipated your reaction. It was his express desire to keep the estate privately held by the family. He spent his life working toward that goal.

  "In light of that, he put restrictions in place to keep an irresponsible heir from destroying the dukedom and the family legacy. Or from disposing of the estate in any way. Most importantly, the late duke has made what I believe you American businessmen call a poison pill?"

  I stared at Thorne. "What do you mean? What are you talking about?" Just how diabolical and smart was the Dead Duke? Maybe he was a true Feldhem, after all.

  "As I said, you are the last of a long line of Feldhems. The last male heir. If you die, or destroy the dukedom, the line dies out and the title goes extinct.

  "The Crown has stated that it will make no new dukedoms. Non-royal dukes are a dying breed. And despite the rules of succession changing for the Crown to allow a female heir to the throne, nearly all dukedoms, including yours, still operate under the male-heir-only rules of earlier centuries. It's almost impossible for a female to become duchess by inheriting. Duchesses are only created by marriage.

  "The late duke, knowing you were raised as an American with little regard for our traditions and history, and no knowledge, let alone love, for Witham House and your family dynasty, made certain provisions that make not succeeding as the Duke of Witham and properly maintaining the dukedom highly undesirable to you, I should imagine."

  I laughed. "What could the Dead Duke possibly do to me?"

  Hubris always goes before a fall.

  "The late duke, while reclusive, was astute. And a studious observer of human nature. He knew how to find a man's vulnerabilities and exploit them. He was sharp and in possession of his full mental faculties to the end.

  "I think, if I were to speculate, that plotting how to keep his current heir in line after his death contributed to his longevity and clarity of mind."

  "Wonderful," I said. Was I supposed to be impressed? Had Thorne just handed me the secret to long life? "He couldn't just do the daily crossword or a sudoku?"

  Thorne smiled, very slightly. "The late duke had many faults. None having to do with money. He was an expert investor. As you will find out soon enough, the assets of the dukedom must only be used for your support and the continued support of the dukedom.

  "The late duke, however, had a small fortune from his mother's side that was not subject to the entailment. He became a multimillionaire by investing it. But, as you Americans also say, you can't take it with you.

  "The most important thing to the late duke was his legacy. He wanted the family name and the dukedom to continue. He realized, too late in life, that he would not produce his own heir. Since your father's death, you have been the heir presumptive, and the duke has been studying you."

  "That isn't at all creepy," I said, managing not to shudder.

  Thorne actually laughed. "You made it easy on him by keeping a high profile. If it is any consolation, he liked you. He was pleased you would be succeeding him. I believe that made his final days easier and more peaceful. He had great faith that you could keep the estate intact and hand it in good condition to your own son one day."

  "Glad I could be of service," I said, not bothering to hide my sarcasm. "He should have been grateful my father died before me. Dad could have ruined the estate with ease. Damn, Dad. He screwed me over in so many ways. Even by dying."

  Thorne didn't look amused. He became suddenly serious again. "The late duke believed you and he were very alike. You have the same talent with money and business. A man with your skills should be able to keep the dukedom thriving through your lifetime with relative ease. And pass it along to an equally worthy heir."

  Thorne paused. "The late duke assumed, being so much like him, that you would understand about legacies and wouldn't want your dynasty taken from you or your life's work destroyed."

  I hadn't been taking Thorne's tone seriously. Now he had my full attention. "Is that a threat?"

  "Take it any way you will," Thorne said. "When your company went public last year, the late duke bought fifteen percent of it through his various holding companies.

  "If you don't take your duties as the duke seriously, and follow the la
te duke's last wishes exactly, as executor of his will, I'm under orders to use the power that accompanies owning those shares to ruin Flashionista. I have expert investors to help me. I will dump the shares on the market, if necessary."

  I swallowed hard as I took in the implications of what he was saying. "But that will—"

  "Cause a panic? A run on the shares? Drive the price to pennies on the dollar? Ruin you? Bankrupt Flashionista?" Thorne nodded. "Yes. True. All true. The duke is deceased. He has nothing to lose but his legacy. The continuation of the dukedom was the most important thing to him. He was willing to allocate all of his resources to insuring that legacy continues."

  If this all hadn't been so bizarre, I might not have believed Thorne. I went over the IPO in my mind. "We were so careful—"

  "And the late duke exceptionally clever. He was, as I said, an expert investor."

  I needed time to check the facts and make sure what Thorne was alleging was actually true. "What does the Dead Duke want from me?"

  I was buying time. If what Thorne said was true, there had to be a workaround.

  "That you do your duty. It’s all in that envelope. In short, however, he wants you to do what all good dukes must do—marry and produce a male heir. And a spare would be nice, though not required under the terms the late duke specified. Though I believe there may be a bonus for one."

  I snorted. "You've got to be kidding? This is the twenty-first century!"

  Thorne sat calmly, legs still crossed. "The late duke had no sense of humor. He didn't joke, I assure you."

  "What are the terms?" I said as I frantically tried to find an out. "I assume there's a timeline?"