A Soulmate for the Heartbroken Duke

by Bridget Barton

  “Hello, Henry.”

  “Hello, Your Grace,” Henry said, bursting with boyish confidence despite the formality of his address.

  “Goodness me, I do not think you need to address me quite so formally.” The Duke crouched down so that he was on a level with Henry, and Catherine was amazed to see that his eyes were shining with tears.

  “Aunt Catherine told me that that was how I must address you, Your Grace. You are the Duke, you know.” Henry grinned broadly and showed no sign that he was at all uncomfortable in the old Duke’s presence.

  And, for his part, the Duke of Shawcross threw his head back and laughed.

  “Quite so, my dear Henry.”

  Epilogue

  Catherine could never have imagined that life at Shawcross Hall would be as easy and as uncomplicated as it turned out to be. It was as if Henry, completely unwittingly, had been the only person who had the power not only to thaw-out a belligerent old man but to entirely dissolve a feud which had begun almost a century before.

  Just as promised, Thomas had kept the meeting between his father and his son brief, not wanting to linger any longer than was necessary, lest Henry realize that all was not as simple as it appeared.

  Assuming himself to be disowned, just as his father had told him he would be, Thomas was consoled with the idea that he had finally ended the feud and that his son would never suffer on account of it.

  The following morning, however, the Duke of Shawcross arrived at Barford Hall in his carriage and walked up to the front door of that grand building for the first time in his life.

  He was first taken to Philip Ambrose, the Earl of Barford, where he was greeted with polite warmth and made welcome.

  With his respects paid to the head of the household, the Duke of Shawcross was taken to the morning room where his son was having tea with Catherine Ambrose.

  Begging Catherine to stay, the Duke told them of his intention to pass the Duchy to its rightful heir, Thomas Carlton when the time came. And, in terms more human than Thomas could ever have imagined, the old Duke expressed a wish that Thomas, Catherine, and his new grandson reside at Shawcross Hall as soon as they were married.

  Catherine had had the greatest of misgivings, but she had kept them to herself largely. Thomas had been prepared to give up everything for her and Henry and had done everything in his power to end the feud. The least she could do in return was allow him his heritage and his inheritance.

  After a quiet wedding, they had moved into Shawcross Hall with Henry. The Duke had understood fully that it would take time before they could tell Henry everything, that they wanted him to get used to things by stages.

  They took him every week to see Philip at Barford Hall, and Uncle Charles and Aunt Celia still played a vital part in his life, as they always had and always would.

  Catherine had been determined that they would continue to spend time in Derbyshire at Ivy Manor, not to mention the fact that Charles and Celia spent a good deal of time at Barford Hall with Philip.

  Catherine explained to the Duke that Henry had been raised by a collection of people who had cared for him greatly, and she did not want to see that end. As far as she was concerned, that would not change, and the Duke was more than welcome to join that collection of people and help raise a fine young man if that was his pleasure.

  By letting go of the past, Catherine had found a tentative peace in her relationship with the Duke of Shawcross. Penrose Carlton had certainly been mellowed by his discovery of a grandson, and Catherine knew that she would have to forgive the man in order for everything to truly be changed in the way that Thomas had wanted.

  When they had been married for some months, Catherine and Thomas decided the time had come for them to finally explain Henry’s origins to him fully. They had taken him to Barford Hall so that Charles and Celia might be there to help with it all.

  “Uncle Charles, are we to go fishing today? It is a fine day, and I am sure that Uncle Philip would not mind if we did,” Henry said excitedly when he ran into the drawing room of Barford Hall and flung himself at Charles Topwell.

  “Yes, I think we can go fishing today,” Charles said as he scooped the boy into his arms and gave him a thoroughly hard squeeze. “But we do have something to talk about today, young man. We have all sorts of things to tell you, you see, and you might feel a little bit knocked sideways by it all. But if you do still want to go fishing at the end of it, I shall come with you.”

  Catherine smiled at her uncle, grateful that he had already decided to introduce the idea of a rather deep and revealing discussion. She took a deep breath before speaking and felt Celia at her side, there as always to help her.

  “Uncle Charles is right, Henry, we do have rather a lot of things to tell you today,” Catherine began nervously. “And the thing is, there are all sorts of things you do not know, things which you ought to know now. You might find yourself a little upset by some of it, and you might be a little angry at times. Whatever you feel is right, my dear. You need not hide anything, and if you want to cry or shout, you may do just that, do you understand?”

  “Yes, Aunt Catherine. But what is it? What is so bad that I am going to be so angry?” Henry clambered up onto the couch next to Charles. Catherine sat at his side, and Thomas sat in an armchair opposite.

  “Well, you know that Thomas and I are now married, do you not?”

  “Of course I do. I was there in the church, Catherine. I am not silly,” he said in an adorably offended manner.

  “I know, Henry.” Catherine laughed.

  “What of it?” Henry went on.

  “Henry, when you were born, I was very young, and it was impossible for me to tell you at the time that I am not your Aunt Catherine really, but I am your mother. You are my child, my dear.” Catherine’s heart was beating like a drum, and she studied Henry intently.

  “Yes, I know,” Henry said and screwed his face up a little and shrugged.

  “What do you mean you know?” Catherine was absolutely amazed.

  “I just know, Aunt Catherine.” He shrugged again. “I do not know how I knew, but I always knew. It was easy to know it, even though I cannot explain it. But I do not think there was a time when I did not know it if that helps at all.”

  “Yes, Henry, it helps enormously,” Catherine said and quickly dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief.

  “Why are you crying? Why are you so sad?”

  “I am not sad, Henry, I am happy.” Catherine sniffed.

  “Will I still have to call you Aunt Catherine, or may call you Mama now?” Henry folded his arms across his little chest, all business, and looked at her intently.

  “I should very much like you to call me Mama if you would like to.”

  “Oh, yes please.” Henry grinned, and Catherine could see Celia mopping her eyes furiously.

  Even Charles was struggling with his emotion; she could tell by the way he fixed his attention upon a vase in the corner of the room and blinked hard.

  “There is something else we have to tell you, Henry,” Thomas began gently. “Would you be happy to hear a little more?”

  “Yes please, Thomas,” Henry said and gave every impression that he was thoroughly enjoying the whole thing.

  Catherine could hardly believe how much she had worried, how greatly she thought her son would be affected by all the news. And yet now he looked for all the world as if he was going to be unaffected entirely.

  “I do not expect you to understand how it all works now, but when you grow up to be a young man, you will,” Thomas began. “But you must know that you have a father too, as well as a mother.”

  “Yes, of course. Everybody does.”

  “Well, would it surprise you to know that I am your father?”

  “No, it would not,” Henry said simply and shrugged again.

  “My goodness, but you are a clever boy,” Thomas said and smiled at him. “A very clever boy.”

  “I could tell when I looked at you, Thomas. Your hair is
just like mine, and your eyes are too. And Aunt Catherine, I mean Mama, looked so sad when we first met when Uncle Philip brought me in and you were here.” Henry paused and wrinkled his little nose in lengthy thought. “And then you cried, and I knew I was right. I felt like I already knew you. I felt like I have always felt with Aunt Ca … Mama.”

  “My dear little Henry.” Thomas rose from his seat and moved to kneel in front of his son. “Do you mind very much?”

  “No, I do not mind at all.” Henry was grinning at him. “I like you very much, Thomas. You let me climb trees, just like Uncle Philip does. Am I to call you Papa now?”

  “Yes, if you would like to?”

  “Yes, I think I would like that,” Henry said and nodded thoughtfully before turning to look at his Uncle Charles. “Well, now that is all done, might we go fishing? I am not at all upset, Uncle Charles, I promise.”

  “Well, why not?” Charles said and rose to his feet as he surreptitiously dashed a little tear from the corner of one of his eyes. “We shall catch the biggest fish in the lake and have the cook serve it up to Aunt Celia for her dinner,” he said mischievously.

  “We ought not to, Uncle Charles. Aunt Celia does not like fish,” Henry said and chuckled.

  “Come along,” Charles said and led the boy from the room.

  “Good heavens, he made that extraordinarily easy for us, did he not?” Catherine said and let out a great sigh of relief.

  “He most certainly did. He truly is a wonderful boy,” Thomas said, his voice thick with emotion.

  “I am just going to follow them and make sure that they both put their warm coats on,” Celia said and discreetly darted from the room.

  “So, everything is finally as it should have been, is it not?” Catherine said and let her tears of happiness fall as she faced her husband and reached out for his hands.

  “It took a long time to get here, my love, but we are here now. After everything that has happened, everything that has hurt us, we now have everything we ever wanted. I am determined only to be grateful and never look back.”

  “And so am I. It is the only way to live; I truly believe that. We have blown out the flame of the old feud, and it is up to us to see that it is never reignited.” Catherine finally leaned against him and felt the warmth and strength of his arms as they enveloped her.

  “You see, I always knew that we afterthoughts would come in useful in the end. It seems that we did have a purpose after all.” Thomas laughed, and she could feel the deep rumble of it in his chest.

  “I love you more and more every day, Thomas.”

  “And I will love you for the rest of my life, Catherine,” he said and kissed the top of her head.

  THE END

  Can't get enough of Catherine and Thomas? Then make sure to check out the Extended Epilogue to find out…

  Will the old Duke of Shawcross be able to admit his mistakes and ask for forgiveness?

  How will Henry, the adorable little boy, develop?

  Will Catherine and Thomas ever forgive the old Duke?

  Click the link or enter it into your browser

  http://bridgetbarton.com/extended

  (After reading the Extended Epilogue, turn the page to read the first chapters from “Kind Ella and the Charming Duke”, my Amazon Best-Selling novel!)

  Kind Ella and the Charming Duke

  Introduction

  Following the death of her beloved father, Ella Winfield is devastated when her mother, a woman with untamed social aspirations, hastily marries the Earl of Dandridge. He is a humorless man, and one whom Ella does not trust for a moment. Leaving her beloved Longton Manor behind, Ella is cast adrift in the large and unwelcoming Dandridge Hall, despite her desperate plea that her mother need not marry at all.

  The Earl's daughters, Lady Patience and Lady Georgiana, are spoiled and manner less young ladies, used to their own way in all things and fiercely competitive with one another. But when the Duke of Hillington is reported to be searching for a suitable bride, the tension between the sisters reaches new heights. With Ella's simple beauty, intelligence, and fine manners, the Earl seeks to hide her away from the world and, more importantly, the Duke of Hillington himself.

  When he determines that Ella not attend a masquerade ball to which the whole family has been invited, Ella takes it upon herself to attend in disguise and spy on the ambitious little family for her own amusement. When she finds herself in anonymous conversation with the Duke himself, she realizes that there is more to him than a man who would seek nothing more than a pretty bride with a large dowry. He is open and amusing and she finds herself quite captivated.

  Rufus Darnley, the Duke of Hillington, cannot shake from his mind the curious and exciting young woman who appeared at his masquerade ball uninvited, and he can no longer find any enthusiasm for his search for a wife with whom he might provide an heir to the Duchy. When he finds the discarded mask of the mysterious woman who left the ball without a word, he holds on to the hope that he might one day discover her true identity.

  As the Earl of Dandridge plots the most appalling schemes to keep the Duke interested in his own daughters, Ella Winfield must do what she can to stop the man she is fast becoming attracted to from being steered in the direction of either Lady Patience or Lady Georgiana, all without being discovered by the family who have, one by one, turned their backs upon her.

  Chapter 1

  “Mama, forgive me, but do you intend to marry Ronald Belville?” Ella Winfield sounded as dejected as she felt.

  “We shall just have to wait and see, my dear.” Ariadne Winfield was trying to dissuade Ella from her questioning, and Ella knew as much.

  “Mama, it is a simple enough question. After all, he has made no secret of his interest in you, and I can see no sign that you have attempted to escape his interest, even though Papa passed away less than a year ago.” Every time Ella alluded to the death of her beloved father, the familiar grief swept over her, weakening her each time.

  “Are you concerned that I would not see out my full period of mourning?” Ariadne looked affronted.

  Ariadne Winfield often looked affronted, especially when her motives were being called into question. And when she was not affronted, the wife of the late Baron Winfield was generally dissatisfied with life and everything in it.

  Ella had always known that her parents’ marriage had certainly not been a match made in heaven, but she had also known that her father would have given anything for it to be so. Her mother, on the other hand, always had the air of a woman who regretted marrying in haste and wished she had waited for a better prospect to come her way.

  But Ariadne had come from much humbler beginnings. The daughter of Sir Robert Addington, she had been forced to work as a governess when her father had died, and the extent of his debts became apparent.

  No longer a gentlewoman, Ariadne had not enjoyed her reduced status. When Lord Winfield, a baron and close friend of the family for whom she was working showed an interest in her, Ariadne had jumped at the chance to rescue herself from a life of obscurity, in a world where she was neither fish nor fowl.

  The young Ariadne Addington had not languished in the lonely life of the governess for more than six months before she agreed to marry Winston Winfield. But it was clear that she had never loved him; he was simply a means to an end. He was the man who would make her a woman of note again, not a gentlewoman fallen on hard times, but Lady Winfield, a baroness.

  Ella had never known if her father had realized it at the time when he had first asked the young governess to marry him, or if he was blinded by his love for her, so much so that he would have taken her on any terms.

  But Ariadne’s dissatisfaction had grown and grown over the years until it had become a tangible thing with what seemed like a life of its own. And it was clear to Ella that her beloved father had noticed it then, even if he had not seen it all those years ago.

  “Well, is that what is upsetting you so?” her mother spoke again when Ella
had been silent for some moments.

  “I beg your pardon?” Ella was a little startled by her mother’s sharp tone.

  “You are concerned that I am not going to wait out my one-year period of mourning?”

  “That is not all I am concerned about, Mama,” Ella said, wondering at her mother’s shallow attention to nothing more than what was considered proper. “And just the idea that you are waiting out your twelve months and nothing more is something that I find extremely upsetting. After all, Papa was very much more than a man whose passing should be hurriedly counted away on one’s fingers.”

  “As usual you are being obtuse, my dear,” Ariadne said sharply. “You are not at all practical, Ella, and I feel certain that it will one day be your downfall.”