Ambersley (Lords of London) (12 page)

The duke pushed away from the fireplace and took a few agitated strides across the room. “Fret not about me. The dukedom should provide sufficient funds for both children, but my presence here will only reignite gossip best left among the ashes. In the end, I want to do what’s best for the peerage and the Vaughan family.”

“
Agreed,” Minton said. “Your Grace, let me outline the particulars of your inheritance. You may then judge for yourself what’s best for all concerned.”

With a nod, Lord Ambersley rejoined him to sit in the two chairs near the hearth. Without further delay, Minton unfolded the intricacies of the former duke’s personal fortune.

~

Derek returned to the gold drawing room, preoccupied with the information Minton had disclosed. He forced a smile for his cousin, reclining on the divan. “I’m sorry I was gone so long, Harry. I hope you found something to occupy you.”

“
As a matter of fact I spent the time teaching our protégé his letters.”

“
Who?” asked Derek, momentarily at a loss.

“
The boy. Johnny.” Harry readjusted the pillow under his knee.

“
Oh, yes,” Derek murmured. He rubbed his eyes, aware of the ache behind them, before looking about the room. “Where is he?”

“
Gone home. Thought someone might worry about his whereabouts.”

Derek nodded and raised the dusty bottle with its remains. “Cognac for you?” Harry nodded assent with a yawn, and Derek poured a splash into a glass for the patient and a larger portion for himself.

I could still walk away from all of this.

When he’d first entered the library with Minton, he’d been prepared to tell him the truth: he was a usurper, denying a true Vaughan from inheriting what should remain in the family through the pure, unsullied, male bloodline. He hadn’t found the right words to express his thoughts before the solicitor had unfolded the many details of the inheritance.

“
Was your discussion fruitful?” Harry asked.

Derek handed him the cognac, and the two raised their glasses in a mutual toast. Derek savored the warming touch of liquid while he considered Harry’s question. “There are a few difficulties I didn’t foresee.” Least expected had been the blossoming desire to stay, despite the hazards, and rebuild Ambersley. The Hall had all but spoken to him, beseeching him for help.

“
Name one.”

The most pressing was that Minton seemed unconcerned whether Derek was truly a Vaughan or not. The solicitor clearly wanted Derek to accept the title, and once Derek gleaned the true financial situation, he could understand why.

Derek lowered himself into a chair opposite his cousin and stared at the water stains on the wall. “I’ve become the Duke of Ambersley, but I’ve only been given the income the property earns. The late duke’s personal fortune was left to his daughter.”

“
But the daughter is dead,” Harry said.

“
Missing, presumed dead. No one’s ever found a trace of her. According to Minton, if you don’t present a body for the inquest, you have to wait seven years to pronounce someone dead.”

“
But that would be three more years,” Harry interjected. “You don’t mean to tell me you can’t lay hands on any money until then.”

“
Small sums. The last duke obviously thought his heir would have a certain amount of money already. The cash sum he left me will pay off my father’s debts. Rosalie incurred more debts when she arrived here, and I’ll have to pay those.”

And there lay the crux of his dilemma. The staff hadn’t been paid in years, and the Hall was a shamble. If he left Ambersley now and Minton settled the title on Curtis, he feared Rosalie would drain her son’s resources just as she’d ruined the finances of both her husbands. Minton had reviewed her spending since her arrival at the estate, and Derek heard the unspoken plea in the solicitor’s voice for someone to help him curb her expensive habits.

It would be nearly ten years until Curtis came of age. Could Derek accept the title, face Society’s recriminations, and protect the Vaughan assets until then? Once Curtis could be relied on to look after his—and Olivia’s—interests, Derek could hand the title down to him. He hated the idea of living closely with Rosalie for such a long period, but he owed a duty to Reginald Vaughan to provide for the children’s future.

The only remaining hazard would be if someone in London unveiled the identity of his real father.

Harry interrupted his thoughts. “So, when the daughter is declared dead…”

“
I inherit a sizeable fortune.” A large portion of which he would invest for his siblings.

“
And if she’s alive?”

“
Then Minton and I would become co-executors of her estate, and she’d continue living here with my family.”

“
But you still couldn’t touch her money.”

Derek shook his head and drained his glass.

Harry toyed with the empty glass. “You don’t
need
a place as large as the Hall. Do you own another property?”

“
Some smaller estates, and a house in London, but it would cost a small ransom to open it and outfit with a staff. I don’t want it known in London just how tight things are.”

“
You could sell—”

“
No.” Derek’s response was immediate, visceral, and surprised him. More softly, he reasoned, “The holdings are entailed. I feel it’s my duty to rebuild the Hall. I just don’t know how I’ll finance it.” The pair sat in silence for some time.

“
You must marry an heiress,” Harry said flatly.

Derek choked out a harsh laugh. “I doubt any woman wants to live with me in that burned out shell.”

“
I have it, cousin.” Mischief lightened Harry’s tone. “Find the missing daughter and marry
her
. She has impeccable breeding and a fortune to boot.”

Derek responded to the ribbing with a shudder, but Harry’s humor had dispelled his low spirits. “Impeccable breeding usually means freckled and short-sighted with teeth like a horse. She would be far too young to marry anyway, better to wring her neck and be rid of her. Then I’d have all the money I—”

A gasp sounded from the doorway. Frowning, he turned in his chair to see the housekeeper holding her hand over her mouth, dismay evident in her eyes.

“
What is it?” Embarrassed at being caught making an unkind jest, Derek spoke more sharply than he intended.

“
I beg pardon, Your Grace. Paget thought you might like to join Lady Vaughan and the children for tea and cakes.” Mrs. North’s voice trailed off as he stared at her.

“
Thank Paget for me, but we’ll be leaving shortly with Mr. Minton.”

“
Yes, Your Grace.” Mrs. North hastily retreated from the room leaving silence in her wake.

Derek massaged his forehead ruefully. “And now the staff believes I murder children.”

Harry chuckled. “Give yourself time. You need to get to know the staff and let them get to know you. In the meantime, perhaps you should…” He paused, searching for words.

“
Watch my step?” suggested Derek with a raised brow.

Harry nodded. “And maybe your back as well."

Chapter 6

Derek and Harry with his makeshift crutch took a coach to Bath the following day as Harry was anxious to tell his mother of his return. After gaining Harry’s promise to return to Ambersley soon, Derek left for London to finalize his inheritance. Here, Minton took him to view the residence on Grosvenor Square—which boasted twelve bedrooms and its own mews—and it began to seep in that he truly was the twelfth Duke of Ambersley. Minton asked if His Grace wished to open the residence for the remainder of the Season. Without regret, Derek declined and announced he would return forthwith to Ambersley and start repairs on the Hall.

On a bright April afternoon, Derek and his burly servant Cushing rode up the long drive to Ambersley Hall. As they rounded the final bend, Derek experienced that same eye-stinging sense of homecoming. Cushing let out a low whistle that made Sabu prick his ears and prance in delight. Derek controlled the desert-bred stallion with a steady hand on the rein and a stroke along his arched neck. He looked sidelong at the servant. “It makes an impression, doesn’t it.”

“
It’s as big as a bloody palace, beggin’ your pardon, Master—I mean, Milord.” Cushing tapped a heel to move his newly purchased gelding apace.

“
Don’t let it fluster you, Cushing. You know I don’t stand on ceremony.”

“
To think you went all the way to India to seek your fortune when this was waiting right here for you the whole time.”

Derek shook his head. “The irony is, I have inherited one giant expense and not nearly enough coin to support it.” Regardless, he had no regrets. Not about this.

“
That will come in time, Master.”

In time.
The question was, how much time did he have? There remained the possibility that somewhere lived a man who could offer up proof that Derek was not truly a Vaughan. If his stepmother found such a man, she wouldn’t hesitate to rid the place of Derek and put Curtis in his stead. Though drawn to Ambersely, he needed to remember his time here was temporary.

“
We need to start training Sabu,” Cushing said. “I’m sure he could win at the races. Look how quickly he’s recovered from being aboard the ship.”

It was true. Sabu had finished the leisurely two-day journey from London as fresh as he’d started. “There will be racing at Goodwood in late summer. I don’t know whether they’ll allow a foreign-bred horse.”

Cushing scratched his rather bulbous nose. “The Duke of Richmond might bend the rules to allow the Duke of Ambersley to race his best horse. You could write to him.”

“
Or have my secretary write him.” Neither spoke another word, but they wore broad smiles as they drew rein at the stables.

The head groom trotted out on bowed legs to take their horses as they dismounted. “Welcome back, Your Grace,” he said with a nod.

“
Thank you, er—”

“
Rory, my lord.”

Derek turned to Cushing. “Bed the horses down. Rory can help you find a loose box for Sabu.” Over the horse’s shoulder, he saw the groom’s mouth gape and tensed.

“
I’m sorry Your Grace is displeased with my work. I’ll help your new man find his way around then pack my things.” Rory’s voice shook with emotion.

Belatedly, Derek realized his error. Gruffly, he said, “Good God, man, he’s not replacing you. This is Cushing—he’ll be supervising Sabu’s training for the races.” As Harry had suggested, he would need to learn the rank and file of every staff member or risk offending them.

Rory’s mouth closed, and he stepped back to consider the two horses before pointing to Sabu. “You plan to race
this
horse?”

The little stallion arched his neck and pricked his ears in reply.

Cushing laughed. “He’s a might on the smallish side, but wait ’til you see him run.” He took Sabu’s reins and allowed Rory and the gelding to precede him into the stable.

Derek would have followed, but he spied Paget. The butler—without his coat—wiped his hands on a large white linen handkerchief as he approached.

“
Forgive me, Your Grace. We weren’t expecting your return.”

“
And where else should I be?”

“
Lady Vaughan has been preparing to withdraw to London for the Season. We assumed the family was joining you there.”

How like Rosalie to take immediate advantage of his return. She’d waited nearly a year for Minton to publicly acknowledge her immediate family’s claim to the title. Now out of mourning, she would be eager to open the ducal residence and throw lavish soirees. It would hardly matter to her whether Derek was there or not.

“
My fault for not discussing it with her. The family will remain here for the summer.”

“
Very good, my lord.” He started to turn away but Derek stopped him.