No Ordinary Duke

by Sophie Barnes

Arguing about his future parents-in-law was the last thing he wished to be doing the moment they entered the room. He glanced at the clock and noted the time. Ten minutes had passed since their arrival, and the Clemenses had still not arrived to greet them.

  “Do you think they’re deliberately keeping us waiting?” Caleb asked his mother when another ten minutes had passed.

  “That would be rather rude, but given our family’s effect on their daughter’s life, understandable, I suppose.”

  Caleb drummed his fingers against his armrest. Perhaps this meeting would not be as easy as he had expected. He cleared his throat and was considering calling for a servant to bring them some tea when the door opened and the Clemenses walked in.

  “Your Graces,” Mrs. Clemens said by way of greeting. Her voice was curt while still managing to sound polite.

  Her husband, who followed her into the room, executed a bow in concert with his wife’s curtsey. “I hope you’ll forgive the wait,” he murmured. “We were not expecting callers.”

  Caleb, who had risen the moment Mrs. Clemens had entered the room, stepped forward and offered his hand. Mr. Clemens eyed it as if uncertain, but eventually shook it without too much hesitation. “Please, let us sit,” Caleb suggested. “There is a matter we wish to discuss with you.”

  “Oh indeed?” Mrs. Clemens arched a brow. “One would think there was nothing left to be said between us.”

  Ah, so the lady was holding a grudge.

  Mr. Clemens gave his wife a look of warning. “I’m sure the duke and his mother have come for a reason. The least we can do is hear them out.”

  Mrs. Clemens seemed to consider this before nodding her agreement. “Very well. Shall I ring for some tea?”

  “Please do,” the duchess said. “I fear this may take some time. So sorry to impose on you like this without any notice, but my son is very eager to move things along, so here we are.”

  “And we are both eager to know the reason for it, Your Grace,” Mr. Clemens said. He waited for his wife to sit before lowering himself to one of two available armchairs. Caleb sat in the other.

  “I have come to discuss your daughter’s future,” Caleb said.

  Two pairs of eyes widened, and then Mr. Clemens frowned. “Really?” He glanced at his wife, who was now biting her lip as if trying to stop herself from blurting out an insult. “Edith is a charming young lady,” Mr. Clemens said carefully. “Well educated too, I can assure you of that. Her mother and I are both very progressive and thought it wise to ensure she’ll not bore the man she eventually marries. But considering our previous experience with your family, I regret to inform you that I cannot in good conscience allow you to court her. Even if you are a duke.”

  “In that case you need not concern yourselves,” Caleb said, “for Edith is not the daughter to whom I refer.”

  Mrs. Clemens appeared to relax while Mr. Clemens’s eyes took on a bewildered look of confusion. “But who else is there? Sarah and Lilly are both married, so I don’t quite—”

  “I am speaking of Mary,” Caleb said more sharply than he’d intended. To think the man could not recall having a fourth daughter was so astounding it made his nerves tighten to the point of snapping.

  “After five years we’d hoped the business with your brother would be in the past,” Mrs. Clemens told him tightly. “We told Mary at the time that it was unwise to set her cap for a marquess, but of course we hoped, as all parents do, that our daughter would aspire to greater things than we ever could.” She glared at Caleb. “My husband wrote to your father at the time and apologized for Mary’s transgression.”

  “You sent her away,” Caleb told her while matching her frigid stare. This was not going as he had hoped.

  “To protect our other daughters from being ruined by association,” Mrs. Clemens explained. She swallowed hard and dropped her gaze. The fight appeared to go out of her, leaving a seemingly unhappy woman behind. “We did not have the power to fight a duke’s influence. Sending Mary away felt like the only viable option at the time.”

  “Your coming here and inquiring after our daughter,” Mr. Clemens said slowly, directing Caleb’s attention away from Mrs. Clemens, “may have given us the wrong impression. I hope you’ll forgive any assumptions made on our part. All things considered, we really ought to have known better than to suppose that you, the brother of the man our Mary tried to trap, would have any interest in—”

  “Please.” Caleb held up a hand, quieting the man. “This has nothing to do with my brother or the unfortunate rumor my father started in order to chase Mary away.”

  “I…er…I see,” Mr. Clemens said even though it was clear he saw nothing. His wife appeared equally stumped.

  “You do realize your daughter did nothing wrong?” Mary had never said much about her parents’ reactions to what had happened, save for their intention to remove her to Scotland so her sisters would have better chances of making agreeable matches.

  “Um…” Mrs. Clemens wrung her hands. “Your father was a duke, Your Grace. A highly respectable gentleman.”

  “What reason would we have had to suppose he would be dishonest?” Mr. Clemens asked.

  Caleb could think of a dozen, the first one being that Mary was one of the most direct people he’d ever known. She wasn’t a liar.

  “So you believed him and the rumor he spread, over your own daughter’s word?” Caleb’s mother asked before he could manage to do so.

  “Does it really matter?” Mrs. Clemens asked. She looked at each of them in turn. “We had no power to dispute what was being said. Only your brother could have done that, except he left Town shortly after and didn’t return until the following Season.”

  Rising, Caleb crossed to the fireplace and stared down into the flickering flames while struggling to keep his anger at bay. He drew a deep breath and expelled it before turning back to face the people he hoped he’d soon be related to. “Even so, I daresay it would have made all the difference in the world to Mary if her family had believed her.”

  Guilt stole into the Clemens’s eyes and Mrs. Clemens even dabbed at hers with a handkerchief Mr. Clemens produced from his jacket pocket. “We don’t even know where she is,” he said.

  “She is safe and happy and living among friends,” Caleb assured them.

  “So you have seen her?” Mrs. Clemens’s eyes brightened.

  “Indeed, I have recently returned from a two-month stay at Clearview, which is where your Mary resides.” A maid entered with a tea tray, and Caleb waited until she’d departed once more before strolling back to his chair and resuming his seat. “During my…sojourn there, I had the pleasure of becoming well acquainted with her. We became friends and I…” He paused for a moment while Mrs. Clemens served tea.

  She glanced up at him with visible hesitation. “Sugar or milk?”

  “Neither,” he said, thanking her for the cup while his mother added a lump of sugar to her own. “The fact of the matter is, I fell completely in love with her.”

  His comment caused Mr. Clemens, who was in the process of picking up his cup, to jerk so violently he spilled most of the contents. His wife thrust a napkin toward him while staring at Caleb with wide-eyed dismay. “So you’ve come to ask for her hand?” she asked.

  Caleb glanced at Mr. Clemens. who’d finally managed to mop up most of his tea from the table. “It is a bit more complicated than that.”

  Mr. Clemens discarded the soaking wet napkin on the tray and turned to Caleb. “In what sense?”

  “In the sense that I did not tell her I was a duke or the brother of the man who once broke her heart.”

  “But why?” Mrs. Clemens asked with incredulity.

  Caleb took a moment to explain the circumstances under which he’d first met Mary and why it had been so difficult for him to tell her the truth later on. “I fear she may never forgive me, but if there’s even the tiniest chance she might, then I’ll take it.”

  “My son is the Duke of Camberly,” the duchess said.
“That cannot change, and although he may wish to embrace the same sort of life your daughter has grown so fond of, away from Society and its responsibilities, he will still have estates to manage and tenants to look after. There is also his seat in Parliament to consider, which means he will have to spend part of his time in London, no matter how much he prefers the country.”

  “In other words,” Mr. Clemens said, “Mary would have to accept this in order for the marriage to work.”

  Caleb nodded. “And I think getting her to do so will be easier if we show her that she can belong here again. Which is the crux of my visit today. I would like you both to apologize to her for making her feel unwanted.”

  Mr. Clemens shook his head. “We only—”

  “Additionally,” Caleb said, cutting him off, “I want you to invite her for Christmas. Tell her she is welcome to bring her friends and the children they care for. Be convincing.”

  Mrs. Clemens stared at him. “She will never agree, Your Grace. We…we haven’t even heard from her in all these years. Not one word!”

  “Of course you haven’t, because it was never up to her to reach out. It was up to the two of you. Her parents. And do not tell me you failed to find her when I know well enough that your inability to do so is due to lack of effort on your part.” Picking up his teacup, Caleb took a long sip and set it back down. “Now you have another chance to do right by Mary, as does my mother.”

  “I mean to make reparations by having the truth printed in the Mayfair Chronicle,” the duchess announced.

  “Truly?” the Clemenses asked in unison.

  “Invite your daughter for Christmas,” Caleb said, “so I can proceed with the next part of my plan.”

  “Which is what, Your Grace?”

  Caleb tugged on the sleeves of his jacket. His lips twitched with the thrill of pursuing the woman he wanted. “To court her as if every future happiness depends on her accepting my proposal.”

  14

  “There is a letter for you, Mary,” Emily said when she came to the table at luncheon.

  They were having chicken soup, which helped warm them on this particularly freezing December day where even the fire burning in the grate seemed insufficient. Cassandra was placing hot bricks near the children’s feet for added comfort while Mary filled their bowls.

  She looked up in surprise and wondered if it might be from him. It had been two and a half weeks since Caleb’s departure and still her body felt numb. No matter how hard she tried, she could not stop thinking of him, which only caused her to question everything she’d said and done until she could no longer stand it. The pain was too much. She longed to escape it but didn’t know how. What she did know was that Caleb had made her feel more alive than ever before. And that the moment he’d left, the part of her that smiled and laughed and enjoyed having fun had withered and died.

  “It looks like it’s from your parents,” Emily said.

  The ladle Mary was wielding clattered against the soup tureen. “What?”

  Emily placed the sealed piece of paper bearing her address and theirs on the table in front of Mary. She drew a sharp breath, and her hand reached out, her fingers carefully sliding across her mother’s elegant script to ensure it was real. And then an awful thought struck her. They’d no idea where she was because she’d never told them. So if they’d gone to the trouble of uncovering it now after all this time, it had to be because something terrible had happened.

  Heart racing, Mary snatched up the letter and held it to her breast. “Will you please excuse me for a moment while I read this?”

  “Of course,” Cassandra said, looking only slightly alarmed. “We’ll make sure the children eat every last drop of this tasty meal you’ve prepared. Including the carrots.”

  Daphne made a face and Eliot said, “Yuk!”

  Mary felt a bit of the tension ease and thanked her friends before quitting the room. Drawing her shawl more tightly around her shoulders, she went to the kitchen where heat still radiated from the stove. She took a deep breath and steeled herself for the worst before breaking the seal and unfolding the letter.

  * * *

  Our dearest Mary,

  Your father and I must express our sincerest apologies for the way in which we have wronged you. It has recently come to our attention that we were mistaken in our beliefs regarding what happened between you and the Marquess of Wrenwick. His brother, the new Duke of Camberly, has set the story straight, laying all blame at his own father’s feet.

  After all these years, we can only pray you will find it in your heart to forgive us for not believing you at the time and for asking you to leave your home. We understand you have since made a comfortable life for yourself with two dear friends and that the three of you have bestowed your generosity upon a few orphans.

  In an effort to broker peace between us and prove to you how sorry we are, we would like to invite all of you to spend the upcoming holiday season with us in London. Our house, as you know, is spacious enough to allow it, though some of the children may be required to share a bedchamber.

  Your sisters send their love and best wishes, too, along with every hope of seeing you again very soon. Please let us know, or simply arrive. We are all ready and eager for your return.

  With everlasting love and affection,

  Mama and Papa

  P.S. We will cover the cost of a hired post-chaise.

  * * *

  Sniffing, Mary brushed the tears from her cheek with the back of her hand, only to find herself crying harder. A sob lodged itself in her throat, struggling against the lump that had formed. She’d dreamed of this moment five years ago, of them coming to their senses and realizing just how greatly they’d wronged her. She’d dreamt of them missing her so much they’d hire investigators to find her, but then the weeks had turned into months, and the months had turned into years, and she’d lost hope.

  Her body shook, not from cold but from violent emotion. She’d thought she’d stopped caring, but the letter had brought it all back, and the words…the words went straight to her heart, melting it as easily as the sun would melt butter. Inhaling deeply, she reread the letter and cried a bit more before managing to regain her composure.

  Caleb had done this. He’d gone to her parents and told them everything, and now they wanted to see her. She inhaled deeply. He was trying to make things right between them by clearing her of any wrongdoing with his brother. But as much as she appreciated the gesture, it didn’t change the fact that he’d deliberately played her for a fool.

  She knew she probably looked a fright when she returned to the dining room, and Cassandra’s and Emily’s concerned expressions confirmed this. “What has happened?” Cassandra asked.

  Emily set her spoon aside. “Is everything all right?”

  Peter slurped and Eliot belched, sending all the children into a fit of laughter which earned them a sharp reprimand from Cassandra.

  Mary nodded. “Yes. We have all been invited to spend Christmas in London with my parents.”

  “Really?” Cassandra asked with some surprise.

  Mary nodded. She bit her lip. “I’m not so sure it’s a good idea,” she said. Hurt from their ill-treatment still clung to her like a heavy wool cloak.

  “May I?” Cassandra asked. She held out her hand, and Mary reluctantly handed her the letter. After reading it, she met Mary’s gaze with bewildered curiosity. “Is this not what you have been waiting for, Mary? For your parents to apologize and beg your forgiveness?”

  “I no longer know,” Mary confessed. “It has been so long. I do not feel the same desire to see them again as I once did.”

  “They are your parents,” Emily reminded her. “And what of your sisters? You said you used to be close.”

  Mary winced. She’d missed Sarah, Lilly, and Edith most of all after leaving London. It was her own fault she hadn’t stayed in touch with them, because she’d feared they would tell their parents where she was hiding. “True,” she muttered. “I have
to admit I long to see them again.”

  “Then let us accept your parents’ offer,” Cassandra implored. “Besides, the children will have a better Christmas there than they’re bound to have here. We cannot deny them that for any reason.”

  A small smile tugged at Mary’s lips. “You are too manipulative, Emily.”

  “So it’s settled?” Emily asked while everyone in the room seemed to hold their breath.

  “Indeed,” Mary said. “We are going to London for Christmas.”

  The children whooped in response, their happiness cementing the rightness of Mary’s decision in her mind. It would likely be a strained reunion, but she’d do it for them. As for Caleb… She wasn’t sure how she’d respond if she saw him during her visit to London and could only hope the attraction she felt for the man would not cloud her judgment in any way.

  They arrived three days later, exactly one week before Christmas Eve. After descending from the carriage, Mary had started helping the children down when the front door opened and a flurry of silk and lace launched itself in her direction. Before she knew what was happening, she was being embraced by her mother, who seemed stronger now than ever before, her arms squeezing Mary as if she meant to crush her.

  “Thank God you are finally here,” her mother exclaimed, heedless of who might happen to see. “You cannot imagine how much I have missed you.”

  “It cannot be more than I,” another feminine voice said. “Or I,” someone else remarked.

  With barely a chance to catch her breath, Mary was helplessly pulled from her mother’s arms into her sister, Edith’s, embrace and then into her father’s. It was overwhelming and much more frantic than she would have expected. It also banished the indifferent demeanor with which she’d intended to greet her parents and filled her heart with warmth instead.

  “This is Miss Howard and Lady Cassandra,” she said, introducing her friends as soon as she had the chance to. She gestured to each of the children in turn, “And here’s Daphne, Bridget, Penelope, Peter, and Eliot.”