Enchanting the Duke: Sweet and Clean Regency Romance (His Majesty's Hounds Book 5)

by Arietta Richmond

  “Cordelia and Georgiana, you know that you have been the most important thing in my life. I am proud of you both – you have grown into beautiful young women. It is my fondest desire to see you both married and happy in your life. Unfortunately, it seems that I may not be able to do that.”

  “Why?” Georgiana, forthright as ever, did not hesitate to ask.

  “Because, dear daughter, I am ill. Very ill. I have been for some time. I am sure that you have noticed that I have been coughing more than is good, that I do things more slowly than I used to, and that I have become rather thinner over the last few months. My physician tells me that it is the consumption. He had hoped that, by taking the waters here in Bath, my condition might improve – but, alas, the waters have done nothing for me. It seems likely that I will not be here to care for you much longer.”

  Cordelia gave a small strangled sounding sob at his words, Georgiana simply stared at him, her face a picture of stubborn denial.

  Miss Millpost paled, and watched the girls closely, unsure how to help them at this terrible moment, and rather distraught herself that her employer of so many years was dying. Cordelia stood, and paced about the room, unable to contain her distress.

  “Oh Father, surely there is something that can be done! I cannot bear the thought of losing you.” Her voice broke, and a tear rolled down her cheek. The Duke ached for her, but stood silent as the Baron continued.

  “Alas, my dear, there is nothing. I have had to come to terms with that fact. And, having done so, I have prepared. All of the necessary papers are drawn up. There is a substantial dowry for each of you, and for each of you, some of the properties that I own, to be yours, always – there will be clauses in your marriage contracts, to prevent them becoming your husband’s property. This house, Cordelia, will be yours, and Casterfield Grange, Georgiana, will be yours. There are other properties, but those are the main ones.”

  The girls looked at each other, Cordelia silently crying, Georgiana’s face showing her dawning realisation that her father’s words were true, that she would soon lose him. The Baron went on, desperate to have everything said, torn apart by watching the girls’ reaction.

  “Sadly, I do not know what will happen to the Barony. I have no male heir, and, within the Branley bloodline, none can be found, no matter how distant. It would therefore seem likely that I will be the last Branley to hold the noble title of Tillingford.”

  Georgiana, in particular, looked horrified at the concept.

  “The most likely outcome is that the Prince Regent will grant the title and entailed lands to a person of his choice, once I am gone. Let us hope that he chooses wisely. Tillingford Castle will pass to the new Baron. Before I pass on, we will visit it, one last time, so that you may choose what paintings and other items from there you wish for your own. Now that I am so close to joining her in the hereafter, I will be glad to find myself amongst my memories of your mother again. After luncheon, I will speak to the staff, and inform them of all of this as well.”

  Georgiana burst into tears, and flung herself into Miss Millpost’s arms, feeling, once again, like a small child. Miss Millpost’s own tears slid down her cheeks, and fell into Georgiana’s hair.

  Cordelia, seeing Georgiana’s reaction, finally lost control of her own sobs, and turned, covering her face with her hands. Moments later, she felt strong arms surrounding her, and the Duke pulled her against him, cradling her to his chest as she cried.

  The Baron rose, tears finally escaping his own eyes, and walked slowly to where Cordelia and the Duke stood. He stroked Cordelia’s hair gently, looking the Duke in the eye as he spoke.

  “Cordelia, I am so glad that you have found companionship and, dare I hope, love, with my old friend Rotherhithe. I will feel better when I pass, knowing that you have him to care for you.”

  The Duke nodded once, and tightened his arms around Cordelia. The Baron then turned to Georgiana and Miss Millpost. He opened his arms and enfolded them both, finding himself, for a moment, unable to speak until Georgiana looked up at him.

  “Georgiana, I must hope that you find a noble gentleman worthy of your keen intelligence and unique perspective on life. I am sure that Rotherhithe will be true to my wishes and do everything he can to see you well married and safe in your life. And you, Miss Millpost, I thank you, more than I can express, for all these years of service, and I beg you, stay with the girls until they are both happily married and settled, however long that may take. “

  Miss Millpost nodded, finding herself, for perhaps the first time in her life, bereft of words.

  “Rest assured, I have made sure, in my will, that you will be well off, and set for the rest of your life, Miss Millpost. There is an annuity, and that cottage in Casterfield Village that you have always most admired. My man of business has been instructed to ensure that you will want for nothing.”

  Miss Millpost simply clasped his hand and nodded.

  ~~~~~

  When all of the staff had gathered in the ballroom, the Baron informed them of the details. There were shocked gasps, and some tears from the housekeeper and Cook, who, with Garrig, had been with him for decades.

  Garrig simply drew himself up and bowed before speaking.

  “Your wishes will be honoured in all things, My Lord – simply inform me of anything you need or want, and I will ensure it is done.”

  “My thanks, to all of you, for your dedication. We will remain in residence here until late August, and I will continue to take the waters, in the faint hope that they may prolong my life, and then we will remove to Tillingford Castle for a few weeks, before returning to Casterfield Grange. Please arrange things in advance according to that schedule.”

  Garrig bowed again, and ushered the staff from the room, leaving the Baron standing, alone, and staring, unseeing, out across the terrace and gardens.

  ~~~~~

  A week later, once the shock of the Baron’s announcement had worn off a little, and all had come to terms with the situation, the Duke excused himself from their company, to travel to his estates, and to London, to ensure that all of his personal affairs were in order, suitable for an extended absence.

  He promised to return as soon as possible, and to stay with them until his old friend’s end.

  Cordelia, although missing him terribly whilst he was away, was overwhelmingly grateful that he was able to grant them so much of his time. A few weeks wait to see him again, even though it seemed interminable, was small price to pay for his presence in the coming months.

  ~~~~~

  The Duke missed Cordelia fully as much as she missed him. The necessary absence brought home to him the fact that he did not, in future want to spend too long apart from her ever again.

  He wanted to be fully sure of her affections before he asked her to marry him, and, quite obviously, he was not going to push things in this next few months, when her emotional state would be understandably fragile – but he wished, now, that he could hurry things.

  He was amused at himself – all of these years since Angelique’s death, he had avoided marriage minded women, and now he was the impatient one!

  The following few months were full of bittersweet joy, as they all consciously appreciated every day that the Baron remained alive.

  That joy was added to in late June, when the news of the great victory at Waterloo reached them. It seemed beyond belief that, after 20 years of war, it should be over, yet all reports suggested that was fact – that as soon as the treaty could be signed in Paris, all of England’s soldiers would be coming home for good.

  Cordelia, upon hearing the news, was glad for another reason – this meant that Lord Edward would now, almost certainly, be able to return home and start life afresh. Not that she wished to see him – that would be far too embarrassing after her so foolish infatuation, but she wished him well – he had never deserved to die, for his boyish bad choices.

  Weeks drifted into months, and as the summer waned, so did Baron Tillingford’s health,
and it was obvious that he would not live a great deal longer.

  The Duke, by now deeply and irrevocably certain that he wanted Cordelia as his wife, resolved to wait no longer to ask her. No matter the difficulties they faced, he wished to see the Baron’s face when he could confirm their betrothal.

  One late August day, as the servants were packing the house for their remove to Tillingford Castle, the Duke and Cordelia walked in the gardens, coming to rest again on the sheltered bench where he had first kissed her. With the golden light of summer’s end casting her beautiful face in soft relief, she took his breath away.

  “Cordelia, my darling, I know that your father’s fading health wears on you terribly, and this is, perhaps not the best time for what I am about to say, yet I have come to love you with such a passion that I find myself unable to wait any longer. I must ask you. Lady Cordelia Branley – will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?”

  As she had that first day, when he had asked to see more of her, to get to know her, she stared at him a moment, worrying her lower lip between her teeth. As then, the sight of it tightened his body and brought heat to every part of him. As then, he hung in torment, waiting for her answer. And then her face was transformed by a smile which lit her eyes and allowed his heart to continue beating.

  “Philip….” her voice was a warm whisper of sound, his name wonderful upon her lips, “yes, oh yes, I would like that more than anything, for I have come to love you too.”

  His arms surrounded her, and he kissed her, the kiss an echo of that first kiss, but deeper, more passionate, expressing everything he felt for her, and could not put into words.

  An hour later, they stood before Baron Tillingford, where he rested in the deep wingback chair in the study, their fingers entwined, their faces glowing with the joy of their love declared, and told him of their commitment to each other. The Baron’s eyes filled with tears as his happiness overflowed. This was what he had wanted. He had begun to doubt that it would ever happen, no matter what reassurances Rotherhithe had offered – now that uncertainty was gone.

  “Publish the banns. I think I can make it through another month, to have everything done properly. Once we reach Tillingford Castle, we will hold a betrothal party – a last event for the old place before it becomes someone else’s problem, eh? But a word now. If I do fail in my plans, and have the inconsideration to die on you before the day, you are absolutely not to observe a full year of mourning. Six months will be more than enough. I’ll put it in my will, and the gossips of the ton be damned if they disapprove. I’ll not hold you from each other as a result of my bad timing, for any longer than absolutely necessary. Promise me that you’ll do what I wish.”

  “Of course…” Cordelia and the Duke spoke at the same time, then paused, smiling at each other.

  “Thank you, father, for that order – whilst I wish you alive and with me for as long as possible, I deeply appreciate your intent.”

  “Good, good, now you two run off and tell everyone else. And get Garrig to summon my man of business, so we can get that direction about the mourning into my will.”

  For a house in which a man waited to die, it was an astoundingly happy place that day.

  ~~~~~

  As Tillingford’s health had steadily declined, the Duke had been keeping Baron Setford apprised of events. As it became completely clear, even as early as June, that Tillingford was likely to be gone by year’s end, Setford made the decision to speak to the Prince Regent as soon as possible. The great victory at Waterloo provided, fortuitously, the reason to do so with all haste, and the opportunity that Setford had been looking for.

  When the Prince Regent summoned him, not long after the news of the victory arrived, to discuss the changes which would be needed in Setford’s work, managing the clandestine activities that kept the nation’s secrets, and the Prince Regent himself safe, as well as discovering enemy plans before they could be actioned, Setford took the chance to raise another subject as well.

  “Your Highness, I believe that you are well aware of my most effective group of field agents – the six men that the soldiers have dubbed ‘His Majesty’s Hounds’?”

  “Indeed, spymaster, I am greatly appreciative of what they have achieved. But, Setford, knowing you, I must assume you’ve a reason for reminding me of their existence today. Out with it. And I hope it doesn’t spoil my pleasure in the fact that this damned war seems to be finally over.”

  “You, as always, see right through me, Your Highness.” Setford smiled a self-deprecating smile, knowing full well that what he had just said was empty flattery. But it worked. The Prince Regent waved him to continue.

  “They have all notified me that, as soon as the last of the treaties are dealt with, they wish to resign their commissions, and return to their civilian lives. I am loath to lose such skilled operatives completely. It seems to me that, if we wish to retain their services in any way, it would be best if we ensure that they are able to be in close contact with each other, and where at least some of them feel a strong sense of obligation – to you, Your Highness.”

  The Prince Regent’s eyes narrowed, but he nodded and waited – Setford would get to the point in his own way.

  “Of the six, two are not of the nobility. One is a merchant – now a rather wealthy merchant, as it happens, and I am looking at ways in which that may be of service to the crown, whilst keeping his interest engaged. That is a discussion for another time. The other is the son of some minor landed gentry. A solid man, and one who has performed some of the most unpleasant, but necessary work, if you understand my meaning. He is the subject of this conversation. For I believe that I have a solution to offer you, to both keeping him ‘obliged’ and to another issue – one of which you are not yet aware.”

  “Interesting. I see no objection to anything you’ve said so far. But tell me, what is this ‘other issue’?”

  “A man that I have known for many years, one Baron Tillingford, is about to die. He is far gone with the consumption, and unlikely to last out the year. That, in itself, is not an issue. The issue is that he has no heir. There is not even a far distant male relative of any kind. When he dies, 800 years of his family history with the Barony dies with him.”

  “No heirs, you say? Are you certain?”

  “Quite, Your Highness. Extensive investigation has been carried out to confirm it. He has two daughters, and adequate unentailed properties and funds to ensure their comfort and good marriages, but no heir at all. So the title and the entailed estates, will revert to the crown upon his death. He, and his ancestors, have all been excellent stewards of the land, and he is, even as his health declines, still deeply concerned about the fate of his lands and tenants. It seems to me that this presents an opportunity. Should you see your way to grant the title and estates of the Barony of Tillingford to young Gerald Otford, in recognition of his outstanding service to the crown, it would relieve you of the need to manage the estates, and bind young Otford to you, in obligation for the great honour you will have bestowed upon him. It will also mean that, as a man with a title, he will be more welcome, more able to move amongst the ton, in close contact with the other ‘Hounds’, and thus be infinitely more useful to us in the future.”

  The Prince Regent was silent, considering Setford’s words. Setford simply sat, waiting, his piercing grey eyes taking in every nuance of the Prince Regent’s expression. Eventually, his patience was rewarded.

  “I see no issue with your plan, Setford. I am quite certain that you have some underlying intent which you may have neglected to mention to me, but in light of the service you have provided, and will continue to provide, I will overlook that suspicion for now. You will have your way. Provide me all of the details, and the letters of patent and grant of arms will be drawn up, and held ready, pending the time of the current Baron’s death.”

  Baron Setford bowed deeply, hiding his smile as he did so.

  “As you command, Your Highness.”

  ~~~~~


  They spent September at Tillingford Castle, the Baron deep in memory of his time there with his wife, but glad to see the place one more time. His daughters, who had barely visited the ancient house since their mother’s death, explored everything. With the help of the Duke, they chose what things they most wished to keep, mainly trinkets and paintings of their mother, plus a few pieces of furniture, and had them shipped to Casterfield Grange.

  A betrothal party was arranged and celebrated quietly, in deference to the Baron’s ailing state, but, quiet or not, it was a day of great joy for them all. It was over all too soon, and the time came to close up the great house and leave. That last day was deeply sombre, for all knew that no Branley would ever walk these halls again as rightful Lord and owner. The shrouding of the rooms in dust cloths, and the closing of the doors seemed like an echo of the approaching winter, and the Baron’s approaching death.

  ~~~~~

  At Casterfield Grange, the warmth of their beloved home enclosed them and it seemed unlikely that the Baron would live until the first days of October, which had been set as the wedding date. He refused to give up, and forbade them from changing anything, saying it would all be as God willed. God’s will, in the end, was that the Baron would not see Cordelia’s wedding day.

  He had received a letter from Baron Setford and, upon opening it, smiled, and released a great sigh of relief. He handed the letter to the Duke, then waved him from the room.

  “Leave me to sleep old boy, I’ve no energy for anything now.”

  The Duke left him and, that night, he slipped away in his sleep, one week to the day before the wedding was scheduled. What had been planned as a day of joy became, instead, the day of a funeral. An enormous number of people attended, to Cordelia and Georgiana’s surprise – they had never quite realised how many people’s lives their father had touched.