A Duke Changes Everything (The Duke's Den #1)

by Christy Carlyle

  He lowered himself into his father’s chair and noticed a letter from Iverson on the blotter.

  The missive was in the man’s usual style—short and to the point.

  Calvert has filed suit against you and the club. Huntley and I suggest a settlement before this matter reaches the courts. Any plans to return to London or are you more enamored with the countryside than you imagined?

  Nick cast the letter aside and scrubbed a hand over his jaw. He glanced up at the mantel clock and considered how long it would take to reach the station and the city by train. Iverson hadn’t demanded he come immediately, but Mina was in London.

  Not that he’d find her in a city of thousands. But it felt like he could. He had the sense that they were connected. Maybe it had been the first time he’d seen her, the first touch, the first kiss. Maybe it was her stubborn, willful nature that reminded him so much of his own. Just like her loneliness.

  Nick rose from his desk and headed down the hall, startling Mrs. Scribb. The older woman clutched at her apron front as if her heart had seized.

  “I need to go to the station. Immediately.”

  “A trip to London, is it, Your Grace?” A knowing grin lifted the edge of housekeeper’s mouth.

  Chapter Seventeen

  In the row of elegant townhouses, Mr. Iverson’s stood out.

  The windows sparkled like cut crystal, the curtains behind the white-washed facade were a cheerful lemon shade, and lanterns on either side of the dark blue front door had been polished until the brass glinted in the sun.

  So different from Enderley’s weathered gray stones and imposing medieval-style battlements.

  Somehow, the appeal of the townhouse’s facade made it more intimidating. Who were they to burst into this man’s well-ordered world unannounced?

  Now that they stood on Aidan Iverson’s doorstep, Mina regretted her rash urge to call without an appointment or any prior acquaintance. They didn’t even possess calling cards to leave if he happened to be out or refused to receive them.

  “Are we going to knock or did we come all this way to admire the architecture?”

  Mina didn’t have to glance Colin to hear the smirk in his tone.

  “This was foolhardy.” Because they were foisting themselves on Iverson unceremoniously, he might reject Colin’s invention out of hand.

  “We’re going to knock.” He took a step closer to the door. “Coming was a good instinct, Mina. Sometimes in life, we must lead with our hearts instead of our heads. And I say that as a man whose mind never stops whirring like a spinning top.”

  Mina had never had difficulty following her heart, but it hardly seemed the time to list the ways that instinct had led her to disaster.

  “I have an excellent feeling about this.” He smiled back at her and stretched out his hand, hovering his fingers over the shiny lion’s head knocker in the center of the door. “Ready?”

  “We have come a long way to turn back now.” Mina nodded and he rapped several times. Echoes bounced off the other whitewashed houses in the square.

  They waited. Colin fidgeted with his journal. Mina fretted that Iverson would see their visit as more intrusive than daring.

  “Shall we knock again?” he asked, his face beginning to fall.

  Before Mina could reply, the door swung open and a striking dark-haired woman started across the threshold. She gasped to find them in front of her, and paused, regarding them with a startled gaze.

  “Hello,” Colin said immediately. “We’re here to see Mr. Iverson.”

  “Then you’ve arrived at the right place. I, on the other hand, am just departing.” She cast a glance over her shoulder. “Unfortunately, Iverson’s staff are currently preoccupied with a minor nuisance.” After tugging her gloves tighter on her wrists and examining both of them from boot to brow, the lady stepped back and gestured for them to enter. “I suppose I could show you in. What business do you have with him?”

  “We seek his investment for my cousin’s invention.” Mina wasn’t sure of all the details regarding Colin’s thresher. She was only certain that if he’d designed the machine, it would be fresh and unique and beyond what anyone had ever imagined.

  The lady lifted one dark brow. “What sort of invention?”

  Mina hoped Iverson’s interest would match that of the woman leading them toward him in clipped quick strides. Colin fumbled with this notebook, pulling forcefully when the edge stuck in the seams of his pocket. With one enormous tug, the sound of tearing fabric set the journal free, but it immediately slipped from his hands. Torn scraps of paper fluttered down like snowflakes as the leather-bound notebook thudded to the marble floor.

  The lady turned and bent to help them retrieve the scattered scribblings. “This is interesting,” she said, examining a long mathematical equation. “And I quite like this one too.” She held up a torn edge of paper featuring a sketch of some strange-looking machine with disks and levers, all of them numbered.

  Though Mina shared a love of numbers with her cousin, her skills were best applied to ledger books, and his education and imagination soared toward creating devices sometimes only he understood.

  “Are you fond of mathematics, miss?” Mina asked the finely dressed woman.

  “Very much.” The lady’s whole face lifted when she smiled, immediately transforming her from formidable to friendly. “And I realize I failed to introduce myself.” She handed the notations to Colin and lifted a gloved hand to Mina. “Lady Lovelace, and you two are?”

  Colin shot to his feet, shoved his notes under his arm, and offered the noblewoman a bow. “Colin Fairchild, my lady, and this is my cousin, Miss Mina Thorne.”

  “What are you building, Mr. Fairchild? Some sort of calculation device?”

  Colin took the sketch from Lady Lovelace’s fingers and stuffed it into his notebook. “Oh, that’s just a glorified abacus, really. The device we’re here to speak to Mr. Iverson about is of an agricultural and industrial nature.”

  “Really?” The lady stood and assessed Colin, tapping a finger against her cheek. “Are you two engaged for supper this evening?”

  “Ada?” A tall, handsome, auburn-haired man emerged from a room down the hall. “I thought you’d departed after Charles.”

  “I found two visitors waiting on your front step, Iverson. A Mr. Fairchild and Miss Thorne from . . . ?”

  “Barrowmere. In Sussex,” Colin said, sketching a less impressive bow than the one he’d offered Lady Lovelace. “My cousin is the steward of Enderley Castle.”

  Iverson’s face immediately lit with surprise and recognition, then his brows knitted in concern. “You must know Lyon.”

  “Yes, Mr. Iverson.” A scratchy tickling started in the back of Mina’s throat. She began to speak and only managed a squeak, which stoked the flames she felt infusing her cheeks. “We’re pleased to have the duke in residence.”

  “What brings you here? Has something happened to Nick?”

  “The duke is well.” Colin strode two steps forward. “We’ve come to discuss an invention with you, sir. One that could change British agriculture forever.”

  Iverson cast an inquisitive look at Lady Lovelace. “Perhaps they should meet Babbage.”

  “The Charles Babbage?” Colin breathed. “I read his Economy of Machinery and Manufactures with great interest.”

  “I was on the verge of inviting them,” Lady Lovelace admitted, “but since you’re the host, I thought you should do the deed.”

  “By all means,” Iverson put in immediately. “Join us for dinner this evening. I’m intrigued to hear how the new Duke of Tremayne is getting on. Lady Lovelace and Professor Babbage will both be in attendance tonight.”

  Mina glanced at Colin. “We had intended to catch the next train back to Sussex.”

  “Perhaps we could take a later train,” Colin proposed, a tinge of desperation in his voice.

  “We serve dinner at six,” Mr. Iverson told them. “Early by most hosts’ standards, but I like to
leave time for the best part of the evening. The discussions. We have another agricultural manufacturer attending, a Mr. Munford.”

  Lady Lovelace added quietly, almost conspiratorially, “If Iverson won’t commit funds, perhaps he would.”

  “Don’t count me out yet,” Iverson grumbled. “I haven’t even heard his ideas.”

  “Well, then I’ll leave you to it.” Lady Lovelace stopped to whisper near Mina’s ear on her way out. “Competition gets them every time.”

  Mina smiled at the intriguing noblewoman. It wasn’t every day one met a lady who was equally comfortable discussing mathematics and inventions and knew how to pull the strings of wealthy investors like Iverson. Her confidence was infectious, and Mina held her head high as she and Colin followed Iverson into his enormous office.

  Dark wood vied with tall garden-facing windows for dominance, and long robin’s-egg-blue velvet curtains brought a comforting harmony to the space.

  “Please, sit,” Iverson directed as he stood behind his desk, arms crossed, subjecting them to an intense perusal. What could he tell from their clothing and demeanor? Enough to satisfy him, apparently. He soon settled into a chair and leaned forward, hands on his desk. “I take it you have designs to show me?”

  Colin rushed to untangle his notebook from his torn pocket and laid out a series of sketches as if he were setting a table, every piece in its place.

  “Describe this invention that will change British agriculture forever,” Iverson said in a low murmur as he bent over the drawings, twisting and turning them, lifting one to get a better look.

  “This thresher is smaller yet more powerful than any yet invented. Powered by steam, able to consume less manpower while producing more grain.”

  “Sounds too good to be true.”

  “But what if it is true?”

  Iverson quirked a brow and grinned. “I do thrive on possibility.” He waved toward Colin. “I presume you’ve come with estimates. Costs, investment capital, profit projections.”

  While Colin shuffled through his notebook, Iverson turned his gaze on Mina. “Did you help design the thresher, Miss Thorne? As a steward, I imagine agricultural matters interest you a great deal.”

  “They do, sir, but alas I don’t possess my cousin’s knack for invention.”

  “Mina’s the reason we’re here, Mr. Iverson.” Colin had never quite outgrown the habit of thinking he needed to come to her rescue. “She encouraged me to seek you out. The duke mentioned your interest in funding new inventions, and Mina’s always looking for ways to improve Enderley.”

  Iverson lifted one of Colin’s drawings. “And how will this piece of machinery assist the estate you manage, Miss Thorne?”

  Mina leaned forward in her chair, thinking of Mr. Thurston and the other farmers who struggled to find manpower during the harvest. “Many have left the village over the years. Young men and women seek employment these days in the cities. Anything that can make the work of harvesting more efficient would be a boon to most of the farmers of Barrowmere.”

  Iverson nodded, interested. He was an impressive man. Broad-shouldered, with an easy grin and incisive green eyes.

  “Tell me about Enderley Castle,” he prompted as he continued studying Colin’s designs. “Have you served as steward long?”

  “A little over two years.” If Mina had ever sought employment, she imagined this was how an examination from a potential employer would feel.

  “How is Tremayne? Is he getting on well?” Iverson tapped the blotter on his desk. “The title came unexpectedly, but I’m sure you’ve been able to assist him a great deal.”

  “I do my best, Mr. Iverson.”

  The first memory that came to mind was of Nick’s hands on her hips, steadying her as she climbed down the oak tree after retrieving Millicent. Then of his hands shooting out to catch her before she fell to her death from the parapet walk.

  Now that she thought back on Nick’s moments of chivalry, she had to acknowledge that he’d helped her a few times too.

  “Have you known the duke long, Mr. Iverson?”

  His mouth curved in a bemused smile. “Forgive me. It’s odd to think of him as a duke.” His eyes twinkled when he added, “I suspect he feels much the same.”

  “He’s expressed as much. Several times.” Mina stared at a seam on her glove that was beginning to fray, much like her nerves. She couldn’t stop thinking about the man, and now, with a gentleman who knew him far better than she ever would, she wished to do nothing but ask impertinent questions.

  When she looked up, she found Colin staring at her quizzically. As usual, her flushed cheeks were no doubt giving her away.

  “I’ve known him for many years,” Iverson said quietly. “Nearly a decade and a half.”

  “You met in London? He hasn’t told me much about his time there.” Mina held Iverson’s gaze and saw the flicker in his eyes, a tensing of his mouth. She had a gnawing suspicion that he knew what had happened to Nick.

  “It’s not a story he likes to tell.”

  “No, I can’t imagine it is.”

  “Lyon’s accomplishments are impressive on their own, but more so when one knows his history.”

  Mina wanted to see his accomplishments, this Lyon’s Club that he’d built up from a crumbling building into a famous gentlemen’s club.

  “You two should attend the dinner party this evening,” Iverson said as he took a look at the estimates Colin had scribbled down. “If you wish to remain in London overnight, I’m happy to offer guest rooms to lodge you. There are far more bedrooms in this house than I ever use.”

  Mina examined the skirt and cuffs of her dark green traveling suit. Colin’s tweed jacket and brown trousers weren’t the height of fashion either. “I’m afraid we aren’t dressed for a dinner party, Mr. Iverson.”

  At first he didn’t answer. His gaze scanned the numbers and whatever else Colin had listed regarding the financial investment he’d need for his thresher. Finally, Iverson looked up, squinted, and seemed to hear what she’d said.

  “Clothes? That’s easily remedied.” He assessed Colin a moment. “I’m sure I could loan you a jacket, Mr. Fairchild.” Then he turned his green gaze on Mina. “Believe it or not, I might be able to help with a dress for you too, Miss Thorne.” He stood and started out of his office. “Follow me.”

  He entered a room across the hall and beckoned her over.

  Mina had never seen so many pieces of clothing outside a dressing room or wardrobe. It was as if a lady’s trousseau had exploded above the sitting room and spilled out a sea of gowns and gloves and hats. Many of them were red. Various shades and textures.

  “I’ve recently purchased a shopping emporium and must decide which of these gowns to offer ready-made.” He perched his hands on his hips and stared at the dresses laid out over chairs, tables, and matching settees as if he had no idea where to start. “Any opinion on the matter?”

  “I’ve no great knowledge of fashion, Mr. Iverson.” Mina could hardly tell him her favorite clothing consisted of trousers, waistcoats, and plain shirts.

  “Well, do have your pick.”

  “Of these?”

  “Only if you wish to wear something else for the dinner party.” He glanced at the gowns, then back at her. “Is that terribly inappropriate?”

  “Probably,” Mina admitted. “Though I’m no great stickler for propriety either, I’m afraid.” She couldn’t even recall where the book of decorum her father had given her ended up. As a doorstop or gathering dust someplace, no doubt.

  He quirked one reddish brow. “Then I suspect you and Lyon get on well.”

  Mina left that observation unanswered and was soon saved from any other inquiries on the topic when Iverson’s housekeeper beckoned from the hallway.

  “If you’ll excuse me, Miss Thorne.” He started out of the room, pausing once on the threshold. “Please do pick a gown, if you like. Or wear your traveling costume. I assure you Lady Lovelace and the others will care far more abou
t your conversation than whether you’re garbed in the height of fashion.”

  After he departed, Mina trailed her fingers across the pile of gowns laid out carefully over the back of the settee. Her fingers slid across satin as slick as the damask on Enderley’s dining room chairs, then sank into plush velvet that reminded her of the curtains in the old estate’s library.

  The velvet gown was a rich, vibrant red, and she couldn’t stop touching the fabric. The cut was simple, with few adornments, and for the first time in her life, she found herself eager to put on a dress.

  What would they think of her at Lady Lovelace’s dinner party if she showed up wearing such a bold shade? In an eye-catching gown, perhaps they wouldn’t assume she was the daughter of a land steward who’d never been to the city before today.

  Mina lifted her hand from the gown and drew in a shaky breath. Her green traveling suit would do. Tonight wasn’t about her. It was a chance to secure funding for Colin’s design.

  “You should wear that one if you like it,” Colin said from the doorway.

  “It’s too daring.”

  He chuckled. “This from the girl who raced every boy in the village and usually won, punched Roger Beck because he called me short, and taught me how to fish with a sharpened stick.”

  “None of that was daring.” Mina shrugged, though hearing her exploits in such a succinct list made her regret what she’d put her father through. Perhaps she had been a bit of a hellion. “It was just childhood.”

  “We dared to venture to London on nothing more than hope and a whim. And look how far we’ve come. Tonight I’m going to meet Charles Babbage, and Mr. Iverson seems keen on hearing more about the thresher.”

  “Do you think he’ll invest?”

  “I think he might.” Colin pressed his lips together, but his eyes were twinkling. “I want to see that thresher at work in Barrowmere, Mina.”

  She imagined getting in the harvest more efficiently, with increased earnings for tenants if they could process grain quickly and get it to market. The rents might finally come in steadily, adding a bit more to Enderley’s coffers.