Caleb winced. This was why he’d gone to France in the first place. His parents’ unwillingness to accept him for who he was. Their constant judgment and ridicule.
“I think many young ladies admire a man who works hard,” Griffin said, coming to Caleb’s defense.
“Of course they do,” the duchess squeaked, “managing estates and making investments, not balancing on a roof or wielding a hammer. Dear God, the indecency of it, Camberly!”
“It’s what I enjoy,” he told her calmly.
She gave him a look that suggested he hadn’t a clue about what he enjoyed. “Don’t be absurd. Nobody wants to do such things. That is why those of us who can afford it have servants.”
Caleb inhaled deeply. This conversation was starting to grate. “I’ll accept that a lot of people might not, but I am different. I am—”
“A duke,” his mother provided, “and as such your place is in the study behind your desk or at your club or even at a gaming hell if you so desire, but it is not on top of a roof.” She sank back against the corner of her chaise with a look of complete exhaustion. “Can you imagine if I suddenly decided I like scrubbing floors or mucking out stables?”
Griffin grinned. “Now there would be a sight to behold.”
The duchess glared at him before shifting her gaze back to Caleb. “Your duty is to maintain the fortune your forefathers have amassed, add to it if you can, and secure the lineage by marrying well and producing heirs. The more the better, I say.”
“And if that is not what I want?”
She pressed her lips together and turned her head sharply toward the corner of the room. “Your father and brother are both dead, Camberly, and you are the next in line. It is not what any of us wanted, but it is what it is, and we must all learn to live with it.”
“Duty before all else,” Griffin murmured. He gave Caleb an apologetic glance.
Caleb clenched his hands. “What about happiness?”
The duchess sniffed and he saw to his surprise that her eyes had begun to shimmer. “The dukedom is bigger than we are. It will exist long after we are forgotten, but it also demands sacrifice and dedication, and I have certainly done my part, as has your father.”
“By marrying for convenience rather than love,” Caleb said, voicing his knowledge of his parents’ unhappy union for the very first time.
“If you turn your back on the duty your title demands, it will all have been for nothing,” his mother said with a tremulous voice.
“It must end somewhere,” Caleb told her gently, “or would you have all our descendants be just as unhappy as you have been most of your life?”
He could see that the question gave her pause, and he took that opportunity to reach for her hand. “Doing what I love doesn’t mean rejecting the title.”
“But the gossips will tear you to shreds. Your reputation will be ruined and…and…”
“And what?” He tightened his hold on her hand and waited for her to meet his gaze more completely. “Why does any of that matter? I’m a duke, Mama. I do not need the ton’s approval or care what they choose to say about me.”
“If only I could be as blasé about this as you,” she said. “If only I had an ounce of your courage.”
“You’ll have my support and protection along with my love,” he told her sincerely. “But if you stand in the way of my happiness, you will have my resentment as well, just as Father always did.”
“He only wanted what was best for you, Camberly.”
Caleb shook his head. “No. He didn’t. If he had, he would not have stopped paying for my education at Oxford when he discovered I’d switched my religious studies to architectural ones.”
Sighing, the duchess slowly nodded. “I think you may be right.” She pressed her lips together and frowned. “We’ve ruined your life, haven’t we?”
He smiled at her warmly. “Don’t be silly, Mama. I’d never allow you to do that. I’m much too stubborn and bent on doing what I want regardless of who disapproves.”
“You were a fine example for Devlin and me,” Griffin said. “You gave us both courage to pursue our own dreams.”
Caleb stared at his brother in surprise. “Truly?”
Griffin nodded. “Had it not been for you I’d have gotten a commission, and Devlin, poor sod, would be wearing a wig to court.”
“Your father did think it prudent to have a barrister in the family,” the duchess said, “though I will admit turning you into a soldier, Griffin, would have been a tragic mistake.” She looked at each of her sons in turn. “I hope you can both forgive me and your father for being so wrong about both of you.”
“Of course we can,” Griffin said even though Caleb knew it wasn’t that simple. He would never forget his father’s last words to him. You’re nothing, Caleb. They would probably haunt him for the rest of his life.
Pulling her hand away from Caleb’s, the duchess stood and went to the window. Parting the drapes a bit more, she looked out and said, “Will you at least consider marrying?”
“Mama,” Caleb began.
She turned away from the window and clasped her hands together before her. “It is a reasonable question.”
“Indeed it is,” Griffin said, adding that extra bit of commentary he loved providing.
“There is someone,” Caleb confessed. He watched his mother’s face brighten. “But it is complicated and will require your full cooperation.”
“Oh yes!” She was swiftly back on the chaise and beaming with expectation. “Who is she?” Tilting her head, her expression grew pensive. “Considering where you have been these past months, I assume she’s country bred? Not that I would consider that a hindrance. Much of the gentry resides outside the big cities, but do give me a name, for I am about to expire from sheer curiosity.”
“So I see,” Caleb told her dryly. He cleared his throat and glanced at Griffin, who was looking thoroughly amused. “Perhaps you can call for some tea?”
“Of course,” his brother agreed. Rising, he went to the bell pull.
“Her name is Mary Clemens,” Caleb said while watching his mother closely for any reaction she might have to that particular name.
The duchess frowned. “How odd.”
“What is?” Griffin asked.
“As I recall, your brother, George, was once attached to a certain Miss Clemens. She wasn’t right for the position, however, so your father put an end to the brief romance and encouraged George to look elsewhere.”
Caleb almost stopped breathing. His hand clutched at the armrest, and he felt his teeth gnash together. A heavy hand settled against his shoulder. “Careful now,” Griffin warned.
“She. Wastn’t. Right. For. The. Position?” He could barely get the words out he was so enraged all of a sudden.
The duchess blinked. “Not everyone is cut out to be a duchess, Camberly. It takes a certain kind.”
Dear God, he was going to do or say something he would soon regret. To prevent that, he squeezed his eyes together hard and tried to slow the beats of his racing pulse. “Is that what you truly believe?” He had to ask.
“I don’t think it’s an easy job. It certainly hasn’t been for me.” She gave him a wary look before adding, “That said, however, I must point out that unlike you, George would have been a traditional duke, which means that he would have needed a traditional duchess if either of them were to maintain their sanity. His Miss Clemens would have been ruined by this way of life in the end.”
Caleb bristled. “His Miss Clemens.”
“Well, yes. She was a very simple, plainspoken girl from what I understand, and while that may have charmed your brother for a moment, she would have been wrong for him in the long run.” His mother drew a deep breath and expelled it. “But you’re different, Camberly. You’re no ordinary duke, so I’m sure the woman you choose to marry will be perfectly suited to you.”
“She’s the same, Mama.”
The duchess looked lost. “I beg your pardon?”
The duchess’s mouth dropped open. Silence ensued. And then, “That cannot be.”
A knock at the door followed, and a maid appeared with a tea tray. “I see you read our minds,” Griffin could be heard saying from the position he’d recently taken next to the fireplace.
“Is there anything else, Your Grace?” the maid asked and set the tray on the table.
“No,” the duchess said without looking away from Caleb. “That will be all for now.”
The maid bobbed a curtsey and left the room. Griffin returned to his seat. He looked at Caleb and then at their mother. “Perhaps we should add some brandy to that teapot. You both look as though you could do with the fortification.”
It took a week before the duchess was ready to listen to reason. For the first three days, she refused to discuss Mary entirely, changing the subject each time Caleb raised it. On the fourth day, when Caleb insisted that only Mary would do when it came to marriage, the duchess enumerated all the ways in which he was wrong.
“Her father is in trade, Caleb,” his mother began. “As a duke, you ought to be marrying within your own ranks. And let’s not forget that your brother courted her first. When word gets out, people will talk and scandal will follow.”
“My mind is made up,” he’d countered. “I love her, and that is all that matters.”
She’d sighed in response and walked away, but he’d seen her resolve begin to waver.
By mid-December, after listening to Caleb’s added explanations and his assurance that if she failed to support him in this, he’d never forgive her, she finally agreed to offer her assistance. Caleb reckoned she only wished for him to stop waxing poetic over Miss Clemens at every available opportunity, which was fine by him. Just as long as the end result was to his satisfaction.
“The carriage is ready,” he told his mother one Monday afternoon at half past two. “Shall we depart?”
She nodded and went to collect her reticule. “Are you absolutely certain about this?” she asked while he assisted her with her cloak a short while later. Murdoch handed her her gloves.
“Absolutely,” Caleb told her.
She proceeded to put on her gloves and accepted the arm he offered. It had started to snow that morning, so the steps were slippery even though the footmen had just brushed them clean.
“You do realize you’re setting all kinds of wheels in motion by doing this,” the duchess added as they proceeded toward the awaiting carriage with the Camberly crest adorning each side. “If you change your mind—”
“I won’t,” he told her firmly.
“Well, then,” she said as he handed her up. “I hope it turns out as you hope, for if it does not, your life will not be the only one ruined by all the tumultuousness you’re going to cause.”
“Thank you, Mother,” he told her bluntly, “I am aware.”
“Did it ever occur to you that going back to Clearview and simply asking Miss Clemens to marry the man you are might be the best option?” she asked when he was comfortably seated on the opposite bench. The carriage rocked as it took off, and she reached for the leather strap by the window to steady herself. Her chin was slightly raised in the same defiant tilt she’d affected since he’d first suggested marrying Mary. It reminded him that she still wasn’t completely convinced the union would be a success, even though she’d agreed to help him.
“Of course I’ve thought of that. Endlessly, in fact, but I fear she might refuse if I take that course.”
“And she won’t if you force her to face everything she once fled?” His mother shook her head. “Honestly, Camberly, I fail to understand you sometimes.”
“I know.” He smiled at her, and she, he was happy to see, smiled back in return. “She must accept the title I hold before she can have the man she wants, Mama. The only place I can prove that to her is here, in London, where all her heartache began.”
“Very well, Camberly. Let us ensure her swift arrival then, shall we?”
He settled against the plush velvet squabs. “I would not go to all of this trouble unless I was absolutely certain this is the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with,” he said after a while. The carriage tilted as it rounded a corner and slowed to allow for an increase in traffic. “It is important to me you know that.”
“I do,” she told him gently. A soft smile followed. “Your father wronged Miss Clemens most grievously when he put out those rumors about her. It was badly done, and I…I did not approve of his actions though I understood his reasoning.”
Caleb’s chest contracted at the thought of Miss Clemens at the center of ill-intended gossip, of her sudden rejection, not just by the man she thought she’d formed an attachment with, but by Society as a whole. “Do you think George cared for her?”
His mother nodded. “I know he did, for he told me so right after giving your father the set-down he deserved. But it was too late by then. Word was out that Miss Clemens was a scheming fortune huntress, and by the time he reached her house to check on her, she’d already left town and…well, I suppose Aldridge must have been under strict orders from his sister not to disclose a thing, because George never did find out where Miss Clemens had gone, and as you know, he never considered anyone else, or he would have married.”
“So he loved her?”
“In his own way, I suppose he did.” Caleb’s mother gave a sentimental chuckle. “He was always more emotionally restrained than you, Griffin, and Devlin. George was the quiet and serious one, while you three ran roughshod through the house. Drove your father and me mad for the most part.”
“Is that why George was the favorite?” Caleb asked. He’d made peace with this notion years ago, but he was still curious to know the truth of it.
His mother gaped at him. “There was never a favorite, Caleb,” she said, using his given name instead of the title due to surprise, no doubt.
“He received all the attention and all the praise.”
His mother grimaced. “I think your memory is slightly skewed. Your brother was the heir, Camberly. Your father put tremendous pressure on him, and all that attention you’re talking about…those were extra lessons he received in agriculture, book keeping, and lord knows what else. As for the praise, George worked hard because he was a perfectionist and because he wanted to make your father proud.”
“I think he succeeded,” Caleb said.
“He did, but I also know he hated every second of it just as much as you hate it now.”
Caleb’s gaze snapped onto hers. “He never said a word.” Surely George would have mentioned that at some point, wouldn’t he?
The duchess shook her head. “Consider the age difference between you for a moment. By the time you were ten, he was off to Eton where he made his own set of friends. After that, he moved in separate circles from you, Griffin, and Devlin, though I do know he wished you’d had more in common – a way in which to connect. He told me once that he always felt as though he was very alone. You three had each other, and he was by himself.”
“And then he met Miss Clemens, only to be told he could not have her.” Caleb sighed. He’d always envied George, but not anymore. The carriage drew to a halt and he straightened himself. “The mistakes we make,” he murmured as he opened the door and alit. He helped his mother down. “Let us try to put an end to that habit.”
“You know he meant well,” the duchess remarked, accepting his escort.
Caleb wasn’t sure if she spoke of his father or his brother. All he could hear in the ensuing silence was the age-old saying that the road to hell was paved with good intentions. They were like blisters beneath the soles of his feet, but as long as he got to marry Mary, he did not really mind. And as wrong as he knew it was, he appreciated his father’s interference in George’s affairs right now, because if George had married Miss Clemens, then Caleb would never have been able to have her, not even with George being dead and buried. For th
at was the law – a man could not wed his brother’s widow.
They climbed the steps leading to the tall front door of a pristine white townhouse. Caleb reached for the shiny brass knocker and gave it a few hard raps. He glanced at his mother, who looked every bit the graceful duchess, chin high and eyes facing forward so she would be sure to meet the butler’s gaze directly the moment the door opened.
It did so quickly, allowing Caleb a direct view of an elegant foyer with white marble floors and a massive arrangement of roses adorning a table set directly against the far wall. His mother glanced at him and raised one eyebrow before returning her attention to the man who’d opened the door. He was a middle-aged fellow, somberly attired in a pair of black trousers with jacket to match.
“Yes?” He inquired with a noticeable raise of his chin.
“Are Mr. and Mrs. Clemens at home?” Caleb asked. “The Duke of Camberly and his mother, the duchess, would like to have a word with them if it’s no inconvenience.”
The butler stared at them. He blinked and then stared at them some more before collecting himself and granting them entry. “Please wait here a moment,” the butler said after showing them into a parlor dominated by subdued pastel colors. Here, hydrangeas appeared to be the theme, for they featured in every picture on the wall and in several porcelain figurines.
The butler retreated, leaving Caleb alone with his mother.
“It seems they have good taste,” she remarked. She did not have to add, even though they’re new money, for him to know it was implied. “I like what I’ve seen so far.”
“Not that it really matters,” Caleb told her.
She gave him a pointed look. “You may not think so, but let me assure you that when you marry Miss Clemens, you will be grateful if her family is the sort you can get along with without too much difficulty.”
“Perhaps,” he agreed for the simple sake of ending the discussion.
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