Duke of Manhattan

by Louise Bay

  “What are their names again?”

  “Violet, who you met at the bar that night. She’s the more bohemian of the three of us. Always has a different job, always willing to try new things. She’s a free spirit. My brother Max is older. Super protective. He became a father when he was in college, had to grow up fast.”

  “Are they married?”

  “Violet, no. I’m not sure she’ll ever get married.” She drew an invisible square on the table with her index finger. “But Max married Harper a few years back—and they all know the truth about this.” She swept the hand holding her champagne flute between us. “Violet and Harper actually talked me into it. Max wasn’t so supportive. He tried to give me the money to pay off the Cecily Fragrance loans, but there was no way I was going to accept that. In the end he gave in and accepted my choice—because he’s a marshmallow.” She grinned as she spoke about her family. “Gruff on the outside only. He’ll do anything for the three of us so long as we’re happy.”

  Scarlett talking about her family made our arrangement seem all the stranger. It wasn’t exactly that I hadn’t thought of her as a person—I wasn’t that callous. It was just I hadn’t understood how many people our lie would involve. It made me uneasy—it was much more likely we’d be caught the more people who knew—but I also felt a little shitty that I was asking so much from Scarlett. She was trying to save her business, and I could have just loaned her the money.

  “Thanks for doing this,” I said.

  She smiled. “Thanks for helping me save Cecily Fragrance.”

  We were bonded together in desperation. Soon to be wedded in matrimony.

  Quid pro quo.

  Twelve

  Scarlett

  Maybe it was the champagne. Maybe it had been getting to know Ryder over the past few weeks while we made arrangements to spend our lives together. Either way, after takeoff, I’d lost my nervousness and settled into something that’d seemed so natural.

  Until now.

  As the car turned off the road and up a tree-lined private drive, shit got real. Our lies were about to get oxygen.

  “So your sister lives with your grandfather?” I asked. “Isn’t that kind of weird?” We were sitting side by side in the back of the Range Rover, closer than we had been on the plane. Closer than we had been since our night together.

  “It’s my family’s country home, so it’s not like we’re sharing bathrooms. You can go days without seeing anyone, though we do normally have dinner together.”

  His demeanor seemed to have changed a little since we’d landed. Perhaps I was imagining it but he seemed a little taller, his shoulders a little broader. He’d told me during negotiations that he had no sexpectations when it came to our arrangement. Which on the one hand was good because hooker wasn’t on my list of life goals. But looking at him, his long legs stretching out in front of him, his large hand resting on his strong thigh, I was beginning to think that negotiating no sex into our arrangement would be my loss.

  He caught me looking at him and I pretended to be staring at the view.

  How big is this place? I didn’t have to wait long to get my answer. The leaves of the trees thinned out to reveal a huge … house wasn’t the word. Building, maybe. “It’s like Downton Abbey,” I said, trying hard not to press my nose up against the window of the Range Rover to take it all in.

  There was a lake directly to my left and beyond that, Ryder’s family home. As far as the eye could see were miles of neatly cut grass, scattered with different types of trees. There was a formal flat lawn right in front of the house but the land seemed to dip and rise as it stretched to the horizon. It seemed more like a public park than a private garden.

  “Capability Brown designed the gardens,” Ryder explained, though I had no idea what that meant. It didn’t matter, whoever they were had done a beautiful job.

  Jesus. I’d thought Max and Harper’s place in Connecticut was big now that they’d added the pool house. But this was on another level. “It’s huge,” I said. “And old.”

  “It takes a lot of upkeep.”

  “I guess you have staff to help.”

  He nodded. “We have it down to just five full time, some part-time people as well.”

  “Right,” I said.

  Ryder chuckled next to me as I looked out of the window. Was he laughing at me? This was a different world. I’d had no idea what I’d be walking into when I agreed to this. I wished Ryder had warned me or I’d used Google for more than my regular search of Ryan Gosling naked or how many calories in … whatever I just ate.

  “Lane here looks after us all very well,” he said, nodding to our driver. “He runs the place, along with the housekeeper. We also have a cook, a gamekeeper and a gardener. We have to bring in extra hands from time to time. The wedding will mean there are lots of additional people milling about.”

  “I thought we agreed on low-key.”

  “Oh, well, yes, of course,” he said, dipping his head as if to get a better view of the house in front of us. “We won’t go off the estate for anything. We can do the service in the chapel and use the ballroom for the reception.”

  Was he kidding? “You own a chapel?”

  “On the grounds. It doesn’t really get used since my grandmother died.”

  “And a ballroom?” Was he fucking kidding me? I was out of my depth here. Ryder hadn’t mentioned anything like this.

  “That’s standard in a house like this. It’s no big deal.”

  It felt like a big deal. My brother had a lot of money, so it wasn’t the wealth that scared me. It was the grandeur of everything. The scale. If a ballroom was no big deal to him, it felt as if there may be other ways he looked at the world that were so completely different to me.

  Before I had a chance to wrestle the steering wheel from our driver and race back to Heathrow, we’d pulled up on the gravel drive, in front of the yellow stone steps that led up to the entrance to Ryder’s childhood home.

  A woman in a smart navy suit stood at the top of the stairs, her hands clasped in front of her, a stern look on her face and a hairstyle that looked like it would withstand a tornado.

  Was that Ryder’s mother? She was hardly what I’d imagined, but then he hadn’t said much.

  Ryder stepped out of the car, then turned, took my hand and helped me out. As he closed the door, he waved. “Hi, Mrs. MacBee,” Ryder said, grinning like he was seeing a long-lost friend.

  I smiled at her but she just nodded. “Is that your mother?”

  “No,” he said with a laugh. “That’s Mrs. MacBee, our housekeeper. Don’t worry, her bark is worse than her bite.”

  Our driver opened the trunk and he and Ryder emptied our bags from the back. “I’ll do these,” Ryder said.

  “No, sir. It’s my job.”

  Ryder sighed but picked up the largest bag in one hand, took mine in the other and we climbed the twelve steps toward Mrs. MacBee.

  “You didn’t let me have your dietary requirements,” she said to Ryder as we reached the top.

  “Good to see you too, Mrs. MacBee,” he replied with a nod. “Let me introduce you to Miss Scarlett King.” He headed down the stairs to help Lane with the rest of the bags, oblivious to Lane’s obvious annoyance.

  “How do you do, Miss King?” Mrs. MacBee addressed me.

  My smile felt tight as it stretched across my face and I took her outstretched hand and shook it. “Oh, please call me Scarlett.” No one I dealt with ever called me by my last name.

  “Welcome, Miss King,” she said and she turned and walked inside.

  Had it been inappropriate to ask her to call me Scarlett?

  Ryder put his arm around my shoulders as he reached the top of the stairs again. “It’s good to be home,” he said, turning us both so we faced away from the house, out across the lake. There was nothing but trees and grass as far as the eye could see. Did his family own all this land?

  “This is my favorite view in the world,” Ryder said.


  “It’s beautiful.”

  “Come and I’ll show you around,” Ryder said, tugging me toward him.

  We turned and passed through the huge oak double doors.

  “Grandfather,” Ryder said as we got inside, the heavy thud of the doors behind making me jump.

  An elderly man with a walking stick, dressed in what looked like a robe, came toward us. He held up his hands, his stick swinging like a pendulum. “Ryder, my dear boy, it’s so good to see you.” He gave me a wink as Ryder put his arm around him in a half-hug. “Even better that you brought your bride.” After such a formal introduction to Mrs. MacBee, it wouldn’t have surprised me if Ryder had shaken his grandfather’s hand.

  “Should you be out of bed?” Ryder asked, trying to take his arm.

  His grandfather batted him away. “Don’t you start. I’m here to meet my soon-to-be granddaughter-in-law.” He held out his hands and I glanced at Ryder for guidance. It didn’t seem like his grandfather intended to hug me, but … I reached out and he took both of my hands in his and squeezed. It was more than a handshake, but less than a hug. I exhaled. “You have no idea how grateful I am to have you here,” he said. “You’re a very good girl helping my grandson like this.” Ryder hadn’t warned me that his grandfather knew. Did that mean he wanted Ryder to inherit over Frederick?

  “It’s so good to meet you, sir.”

  His grandfather chuckled and I wasn’t sure why. Perhaps I should have said how do you do. I wish I’d spent more time on the plane quizzing Ryder rather than reading or napping.

  “His Grace needs to rest,” Mrs. MacBee said from behind us.

  His Grace? Shit, what was that about? Was that how I should have greeted him?

  “I’ll show you to your rooms,” Mrs. MacBee said. “I’ve put Scarlett in the East Wing, and you have your old room.”

  “Nonsense! This is a new millennium,” Ryder’s grandfather said. “Ryder and Scarlett will share his room.”

  I was more than fine to have separate rooms. It would allow me some privacy, somewhere I could escape to. Ryder and I were still getting to know each other—trapping us in the confines of one room didn’t seem like the ideal scenario.

  Mrs. MacBee scowled. “Before the wedding, I—”

  “I may be old and tired, but I’m still the duke around here,” Ryder’s grandfather snapped.

  What did he say?

  “Very good, Your Grace,” she replied.

  I turned to Ryder, wanting to ask him about the odd exchange between Mrs. MacBee and Ryder’s grandfather, but he took my hand and squeezed. “They’ve been bickering like this my whole life.” Ryder’s grandfather grabbed onto the wooden balustrade with his free hand. “Can I help you upstairs, Grandfather?” Ryder asked.

  “No, no, no. I’m just leaning and then I can manage to get to the library. You two get settled in and I shall see you for dinner. Seven sharp. Some of the family insisted on inviting themselves so it will be in the dining room.”

  Ryder groaned. “Some of the family?”

  “It couldn’t be helped. Frederick and Victoria want to meet the lovely Scarlett.” Ryder’s grandfather fixed Ryder with a serious look. “You knew that they’d doubt you. This is the gauntlet you have to run.” He released his hand, turned and began to make his way left through a doorway. He held up his stick. “But run it you will. And you’ll come out stronger in the end.”

  I almost jumped out of my skin when Mrs. MacBee said, “Mr. Merriman has been shooting. So it will be pheasant for dinner.” I’d forgotten she was still there. “Let me know if I can get you anything to make you more comfortable.” She turned on her heel and clipped off down the hall, leaving Ryder and me standing in the oak-paneled hallway.

  “This place, Ryder. You should have told me.” Portraits of very stern-looking men and women lined the walls.

  He shrugged. “It’s just home to me. Come,” he said, holding out his hand for me. “Let me show you where we’ll be sleeping.” I slid my palm against his and we started to climb the oak stairs. Brass stair rods held in place worn, moss-green carpet. It looked older than me. Why hadn’t they replaced it?

  I ran my hand over the oak of the banister. It was so wide I could splay my hand and neither finger found the edge. “How old is this place?” I asked.

  “Mainly late seventeenth century. Different parts were built at different times. This entrance hall is gothic, and one of my favorite parts of the house. Do you like this period of architecture?”

  I shrugged. “I guess.” I had no idea about English architecture—or anything else about who Ryder was, it seemed. We were relative strangers, but over the last few weeks, it had felt as if we’d gotten to know each other. Being here with him, I realized I didn’t know him at all. It was like there was a Manhattan version of him and an English version of him.

  Midway up the staircase, we came to a split, and Ryder guided us left. “Mrs. MacBee called your grandfather ‘Your Grace.’ What was that about?”

  “Oh, she’s just formal like that.”

  I glanced over at him.

  “You know, because technically, that’s how you should address a duke.”

  I stopped and pulled my hand from Ryder’s. “A duke? Your grandfather’s a duke?”

  “I didn’t mention it?” he said as if it were no big deal, taking my hand and pulling me up the stairs with him.

  “No, you didn’t.” I would have remembered that for sure. “I should have called him Your Grace?” I asked. “And now I look like the stupid American?”

  “It’s no big deal. Grandfather doesn’t stand on ceremony.”

  I wanted to punch him in the head. We were meant to be a team. Me being unprepared wasn’t good teamwork. “Ryder, it is a big deal to me—you have to tell me these things. I don’t want to offend or disrespect your family.”

  “Okay, I’m sorry. I didn’t think about that. We’re very relaxed around here. Technically, even I should call him Your Grace.”

  Wonderful. If his grandson should have called him by this title, I was certain a total stranger should have.

  “Seriously. Relax.”

  We stopped outside a huge wooden door that looked like something out of a movie set for Robin Hood or Game of Thrones. It had a cast iron handle and hinges. “This is us.” Ryder opened the door and it let out a comical squeaking noise that sounded straight out of an episode of Scooby-Doo. He held it open, allowing me to go through into a large seating area with two couches and various cabinets and tables. Beyond an archway, there was a four-poster bed. “This is ridiculous,” I said.

  “What is?” Ryder asked.

  Tears gathered at the back of my throat. It was all too much. All so different from what I was used to, what I’d expected. “What are we thinking?” I wondered aloud. I really knew nothing about this man. When I’d married Marcus, I knew everything about him. That his hair turned almost blond every summer until he was nineteen. I knew that his dislike of carrots was equal to my hatred of beetroot. I knew he was seven before he could ride his bike without training wheels and his brother teased him mercilessly about it.

  I hadn’t even known Ryder’s grandfather was a duke.

  Ryder guided me to one of the couches, then turned and rummaged around in one of the cabinets.

  “Here,” he said, holding out a glass in each hand. “Water in this glass. Gin and tonic in this one.”

  “Alcohol? That’s your solution?” I asked. “Isn’t it a bit early?”

  “British aristocracy are fond of their booze—you’ll hardly be judged for day-drinking—and you need to calm down.”

  I grabbed the glass from his hand.

  “You didn’t think to tell me you lived in a place like this, or that your grandfather is a duke. Isn’t that royalty, or something?” I asked.

  “No, Fairfax isn’t a royal dukedom,” he said, as if I’d asked him if it was raining. Didn’t he get how ludicrous this was?

  “Oh, well that’s okay then.” I folded my a
rms. “I’m not sure why I’m making a fuss.”

  Ryder chuckled. “I like sarcastic Scarlett. But seriously, this isn’t that big of a deal, just a little different to what you’re used to. I grew up in it, so I just don’t notice anymore.”

  Ryder might be relaxed. But I wasn’t. I didn’t feel prepared at all. And there was one way to fix that. “We have work to do. I need some paper and pens and you have to take me through what I should be calling everyone.” He paused before he nodded. “I don’t want to look like some crazy American who doesn’t understand the world I’m in.”

  “Being American is the perfect excuse—people will forgive you anything.” He took a seat opposite me. “You shouldn’t care what people think. My grandfather and my sister don’t care about that stuff and they’re the only people who matter.”

  It was a nice thing for him to say but it wasn’t enough. “Thank you. I would just feel better if I knew what was expected. I don’t want to embarrass you or your family, Ryder. And I don’t want to embarrass myself.”

  “You would never …” He stopped before he finished his sentence. “I’m sorry about dinner. I know you weren’t expecting Frederick on our first night home, but as my grandfather said, it was going to have to happen eventually.”

  “I’m so glad you’re optimistic.” I drained my glass and set it down. “One of us should be.”

  “Hand me that.” I nodded at the pad on the small table at Ryder’s elbow. “You have to brief me. We only have a few hours.”

  “Whatever you need,” he said, completely unfazed by my meltdown or demands.

  Ryder’s grandfather sounded forgiving, and maybe if we went through things now I could absorb all the information I needed before dinner.

  “So, just to be clear, your grandfather, the duke, knows that we’re—”

  “Yes, he and Darcy know everything. I’ve never lied to either of them.” His expression was serious and businesslike. “My grandfather has always seen me as the rightful heir. It’s not that he doesn’t like Frederick—just that he was never meant to inherit.”

  “Okay, and I call him Your Grace?”