It had not all been good news. The duchy was in debt thanks to his uncle’s extended illness and generally poor management. Percy planned to change that. The first item on his agenda, of course, was to obtain a suitable bride who would bring him a good dowry and political influence. He had his eye on the Duke of Elderberry’s daughter as her father was influential in the House of Lords and association with that house could only be good for him.
He let his valet strip him of his attire before retiring for the evening. I really must ensure that Elderberry looks favorably upon me on the morrow; the future of my dukedom depends on it.
His first day in the House went as expected. Percy merely observed rather than venture to participate. He would make his maiden speech soon, but he would bide his time until the right moment. He nodded to his acquaintances as he left, Harcourt Abbot, the Earl of Ramsbury, being one. He’d heard that the Earl had two daughters of marriageable age, but Percy had no intention of marrying down.
Still, he nodded his greeting to him before departing for the club. His bosom friends, Lord Langdon and Lord Everly were sure to be waiting there for him. Being younger sons, they had none of the responsibility that Percy did.
Their families were still influential enough that even second sons were well sought after. Furthermore, they had invites to all the best ton affairs and were thus exceedingly useful to Percy. If he was to find a wife, he needed to take part in the Marriage Mart this season. It was a frightful bore, but one did what one must to achieve one’s goals.
When he was alone, he could admit that it was a lonely life that he led, filled with duty and obligation and not much else. The hell he raised with his friends was purely a way to forget for a moment the heavy crown that burdened his head. His younger brother, Walter, did what he could but he could not share the burden that was Percy’s alone. While they were not yet in dun territory, the Greenwick Dukedom was punting on the River Tick. The income from their properties was failing, and without an injection of cash from a wealthy bride, the duchy might well fail in a generation or so.
Percy would not let that happen. He would do whatever he needed to ensure the prosperity of his family and remain a peer of good standing.
He sat down at his usual table and ordered nuncheon. As he waited for his friends, he pondered what to do next in the delicate game he was playing.
“Greenwick, I did not expect to find you here,” a voice said, and he looked up to see Lord Ramsbury. He lifted an eyebrow, surprised at the approach as they were not friendly, not really. For a moment, he considered giving the Earl the cut but then just leaned back in his chair, indicating that Lord Ramsbury should sit.
“What can I do for you, Lord Ramsbury?” he asked, knowing that this was not an accidental meeting.
“Greenwick, I understand your estate on the Isles is up for sale. I should like to purchase it.”
Percy blanched, not having expected that. He’d put the property up for sale very discreetly in a bid to raise funds to cater for the renovations of two other potentially viable properties that were currently falling apart. He had chosen his property in the Isles because he did not want it nattered in Town that he was low on brass. He could not imagine how Lord Ramsbury could already have heard about it.
The Earl leaned forward confidentially, “My man of business is very well-informed,” he said, answering the question Percy hadn’t asked.
“I…see. And what is your interest in an obscure castle on the Isle of Man, Ramsbury?”
“I am interested in expanding my offshore holdings. What does it matter when I am willing to purchase the property at the stipulated price?”
Percy hesitated, not sure how eager to look about getting the blasted property off his hands.
“I will have my man of business get in touch with yours,” he said at last.
The Earl nodded, “Thank you, Greenwick. Now…” he hesitated, and Percy inclined his head, indicating that Lord Ramsbury could continue, “My youngest daughter will be having her coming-out ball in a fortnight. I would like to take this opportunity to extend an invitation to you.”
Percy smiled. “I will be sure to reply once I receive the formal invite.”
The Earl bowed, “Of course, Greenwick. I will leave you to your meal.” He said as he got to his feet.
Percy dismissed him from his mind immediately, feeling quite famished as he’d neglected his breakfast in a fit of nerves and fear of casting up his accounts during his first session of the House. He dug into his food as he waited for his friends to arrive.
He was in a mood for a game of whist. Even though he might have pockets to let, he still had good enough skill to win at cards. Indeed, his gaming was one of his main sources of income as he tried to consolidate his holdings and bring them out of insolvency.
* * *
Percy was at breakfast the next morning when his brother walked in, the day’s mail in his hands.
“What have you got there?” Percy asked, surprised to see his brother so laden.
“Bills and invites to various balls,” Walter said shuffling through the pile, “More bills. A notice from the house.”
“Well then, brother, I was not aware that you were my new steward. Did something happen to Winchester?”
Walter gave him a jaundiced look. “Is there a plan to deal with all of this?” he asked waving at the bills.
“Of course,” Percy said, trying to sound more confident than he felt, “I just need to secure the blunt to cover it, and all will be well.”
“And are you going to be able to secure said blunt?” Walter pressed.
“I have already received an offer for the castle on the Isle of Man. That should be enough to cover our debts. And I intend to fully immerse myself in the Season. A substantial dowry is all we need to make sure we are not dished up.”
Walter sighed, “I wish there was something I could do to help.”
Percy smiled affectionately at his younger brother, “You do help, brother. Your unwavering support and council are invaluable to me.”
“Indeed. However, if there is anything else you need, please do not hesitate to call upon me,” Walter said earnestly.
Percy nodded as Rawlings, the butler, came in with a bowl of kippers. The two brothers spoke only of trivial matters as long as the butler was in the room, enjoying their meal and each other’s company.
“I say, it will be good to have a woman’s touch around here, don’t you agree?” Walter said.
Percy smiled. “I thought we did. Isn’t the housekeeper of the female persuasion?”
Walter threw his napkin at his brother. “You know full well what I mean. ‘Tis been a long time since the touch of a feminine hand has softened our lives.”
“Indeed. Not since dear Aunt Claire’s demise four years ago,” Percy said. Aunt Claire was the former Duke’s wife who had welcomed two orphaned boys into her home with open arms.
“A wife is a treasure, but make sure you choose well, my dear brother.”
“You know full well that I will.”
Walter picked up one of the invites, “The Earl of Ramsbury has sent a gracious invitation to his daughter’s coming out. I understand that she is a delightful creature: light and happy and well-appointed. She comes with a good dowry too.”
Percy gave his brother a sidelong smile, “I have my eyes set on Elderberry’s daughter, actually,” he said.
“Elderberry?” Walter said with a laugh, “Surely you jest. He has set his sights on the Prince Regent for his daughter.”
Percy took a breath, “Well, I feel confident I could persuade him otherwise, brother.”
Walter scoffed. “You grow too big for your breeches, Percy.”
“Oh? Who says so?”
“I do, Percy. I, your brother, who has known you since you were in leading strings, do say so.”
Percy laughed, “May I remind you that I am your elder by nigh on four years, young Walter?”
“Ah, but one can hardly tell. I do conf
ess that sometimes I feel like your elderly aunt who must subdue your…wilder tendencies,” Walter said, giving a world-weary sigh.
“Ah, my brother the martyr.” Percy grinned widely, clapping him on the shoulder on his way out of the room.
“You jest but ‘tis no less but the truth,” Walter called from behind him, making Percy’s grin widen. Percy stopped, turning to face his brother, “We should go boxing at Jackson’s, and settle this like gentlemen.”
“Indeed sir,” Walter said perking up. Percy knew that for a pugilist of Walter’s skill, finding a worthy opponent such as himself was often a challenge. So, he was more than glad to spare the time this morning. Walter stood up, following him. “And afterward we can visit Offley’s for some beefsteak and ale. It has been too long since we were out on the town together, brother.”
Percy smiled, falling in step with him, “Let us go then.”
* * *
As they finished their match in which Walter had displayed himself to advantage, they removed to Offley’s. There they caught sight of Lord Brimley and his brother at one of the card games. They were a pair of notorious rakes; they drew the bustle too freely but were reasonably flush in the pockets as their father was a nabob.
Lord Brimley and Percy had been at Harrow at the same time, although Lord Brimley was older and therefore thoroughly fagged Percy using him as Lord Brimley’s unofficial servant. Percy had never forgotten and vowed to get his revenge one day. He nudged Walter, pointing his chin at the two men.
“Fancy a game of whist?”
“High stakes?” Walter murmured.
“Most definitely. Let’s go take them for all the blunt they have,” Percy said grimly. The two young men strode forward coming to a stop at Lord Brimley’s table.
“Percy, old boy,” Lord Brimley said, “Been a few years, has it not?”
“You shall address me as ‘Your Grace’ Brimley, because yes, it has been a few years and a number of things have changed.”
Lord Brimley sneered. “You don’t say,” he said, “I hear tell you might be under the hatches, but would you care for a game?”
Percy smiled grimly. “For sure. What are the stakes?”
Walter and Percy exchanged glances, “How about you pit that beautiful stepper of yours against my curricle?” Percy challenged.
Lord Brimley harrumphed, “You’re on, old man.” He gestured for the two men they were playing with to rise so that Percy and his brother could take their places facing each other.
Percy played a cock-sure game while his brother was more clinical. Between them they were unstoppable, and they knew it, but they let Lord Brimley and his brother think they had a chance before losing no time in winning Lord Brimley’s prime piece of horseflesh.
“Care to try and recover your winnings, Brimley?” Percy asked with a smug smile that he knew would vex his former tormentor.
I will take you for everything you own. He was still filled with ire at the ill-treatment he’d suffered under Brimley’s hands.
“Let us up the ante,” Lord Brimley replied grimly exactly as Percy hoped he would, “Your London residence if I win.”
Percy’s smile became even more cock-sure, “Draw the cards,” he said.
By evening’s end, they had taken Lord Brimley for half his cattle, his London townhouse, and a monkey. As they gathered their winnings, Percy felt a sense of satisfaction and vindication. He not only had a sum to hold off his creditors but had also humiliated his old nemesis. It had been a good day.
In a fit of optimism, he decided to accept the Earl of Ramsbury’s invitation.
“Would you have Winchester reply to the invitation from Ramsbury? We shall be attending his little ball.” Percy said, referring to his steward.
Walter laughed. “Little ball? I understand it is to be one of the biggest balls of the season.”
“Yes well…very likely the number of eligible ladies in attendance will make for a profitable evening.”
“Am I to understand that you have given up on Lady Jane?”
“One cannot put all one’s eggs in one basket,” Percy intoned a tad pompously.
“Very wise, brother. I commend you.”
Percy merely snorted, recognizing Walter’s sarcasm. He merely nudged his brother as they walked out and headed to the stables to take charge of Lord Brimley’s favorite horses.
“We should visit your man of business right away and tell him to dispose of Brimley’s house. That should tide us over for a long while.”
“Indeed,” Percy agreed, already thinking about various ways they could profit from their new acquisitions. Perhaps he would not have to rely entirely on a wife’s dowry to upgrade his properties. One wild night and they were in a much better position than they had been before. He grinned at his brother, feeling carefree.
“We should look into playing whist professionally,” he said.
Walter merely chuckled.
Chapter 3
Tenant for Life
Alexandra was coming to terms with being betrothed to the Duke of Summerhill. He wrote her letters regularly, and she could see that he cared for her--at least a little. She tried to see the silver lining even though she was not at all convinced that her fiancé was not getting a pig in a poke. She feared she would be a tremendous disappointment to him once he came to know her. In the eyes of her peers, she had a made a good match, and at least, the Duke didn’t bother her much as his business kept him in London, while she was at Ramsbury manor. It was a reprieve she was guiltily glad about.
But now Magdalene was coming out, and they would go to Town soon. Alexandra knew she would be expected to receive the Duke at home, perhaps take the air with him at Vauxhall gardens or take in a play at the theatre.
She tried to think how titillating that might be, but all she could think of was the fat little mole at the side of Summerhill’s mouth which seemed to move when he spoke. She could hardly stop herself from staring at it every time they were in proximity, even though she knew staring was a huge faux pas. She tried to think of some other thing when he spoke to her, but it was exceeding difficult.
Magdalene was no help when Alexandra broke down and confided in her as she merely laughed and told Alexandra to keep her eyes on his and not look at his mouth. That was all very well and good but if what her reading of Ovid and Catullus was in any way accurate, then his lips would one day be on Alexandra’s skin, and she would have to deal with her fixation with his mole one way or the other.
Constance came into her room, murmuring agitatedly to herself. She had taken this upcoming trip very personally, wanting to make sure everything was just so. The mantua-maker had been by to take measurements for a whole new wardrobe, and Constance was in a never-ending tizzy to make sure all the frocks and gowns would be ready before they were scheduled to leave for Town.
Magdalene vacillated between excitement and fear. “I’m not ready to get married yet,” she confided as they lay curled up in Alexandra’s bed together.
“I know. I am not either,” Alexandra whispered back.
Magdalene sighed. “Do you think Father will choose a husband for me right away?”
Alexandra stiffened, not having an answer for Magdalene.
“I expect…he’ll wait until after my nuptials to choose you a husband. In any case, you shall be the belle of your season. I am sure you shall have all the bachelors dangling after you.”
Magdalene laughed, “You are such a toadeater.”
Alexandra smiled, happy to have lifted Magdalene’s mood. “Am I really, Magdalene? Then why do you believe me?”
Magdalene gave her an affectionate smile. “Because you’re my sister.”
Alexandra reached over and hugged her, and they fell asleep like that.
Constance woke them in the morning, full of fuss and muss. “Now, my Ladies, you are too old to be hunkerin’ down together like this. Your father would not be pleased.”
“Father is not here,” Magdalene said grumpily.
Alexandra blanched. “Not both of us. Just me.”
Constance’s lips pursed, “Of course, my Lady.” She turned as the door opened and a maid came in carrying a bucket of hot water.
“Lady Magdalene, your bath awaits in your bedchamber,” Constance said.
Magdalene gave another sigh but climbed out of bed and left. Alexandra got up and let her night rail fall to the ground. She gestured for Constance and the abigail to leave before stepping into the hot water. She sank down into it, closing her eyes and luxuriating in the steamy warmth. Constance had started a fire to warm up the room and protect her from the misty cold of early morning, but it was still a relief to immerse herself in the bath.
She closed her eyes, letting her mind roam free and feeling every inch of her naked body, from her toes, right up to the individual strands of hair on her head.
Her hands felt her body like it belonged to someone else. She trailed her finger down her stomach, feeling the silky smoothness of her skin, drawing lazy circles around her belly button. She wondered what it would feel like when the Duke touched her naked skin. Would she be able to look past his mole or would she still want to run screaming from it?
What would I call him in bed? Your Grace? Summerhill?
Both sounded odd in her ears. Maybe she would just close her eyes and think of England like her governess had told her to all that while ago. Or she would think of…the children that she would make with him. Children who would not be abandoned to school houses and never see their parents except for formal meals and ‘inspections’. Children who would be loved.
Daring Fantasies of a Noble Lady Page 2