Duke of a Gilded Age

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Title Page

Duke of a Gilded Age

S.G. Rogers

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Idunn Court Publishing

Copyright Information

Duke of a Gilded Age, Copyright © S.G. Rogers, 2013

All Rights Reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior written permission of the publisher.

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This book is a work of fiction. While references may be made to actual places or events, the names, characters, incidents, and locations within are from the author’s imagination and are not a resemblance to actual living or dead persons, businesses, or events. Any similarity is coincidental.

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Idunn Court Publishing
7 Ramshorn Court
Savannah, GA 31411

Published by Idunn Court Publishing, June 2013
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This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of International Copyright Law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines and/or imprisonment. No part of this book can be reproduced or sold by any person or business without the express permission of the publisher.

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Editor: Kathryn Riley Miller

Cover Design: Lex Valentine

Interior Book Design: Coreen Montagna

Dedication

This book is dedicated to my mother,
Carolyn Scott Rogers,
who always supported me…and taught me how to be a lady.

Chapter One

The Tenth Duke of Mansbury

June, 1890—England

T
HE
E
LDERLY
H
OUSEKEEPER
escorted Mr. Oakhurst through Caisteal Park’s imposing entryway, past a walnut staircase with elaborately carved banisters, and down a wide corridor.

“I’ve heard your daughter is to be congratulated on her recent engagement,” she said.

“Ah, yes. Thank you, Mrs. Blount.” Mr. Oakhurst’s tone and somewhat grim expression revealed his feelings.

“You’re not happy with the gentleman?”

“To all outward appearances, Sir Errol seems a respectable sort, but he’s new to Mansbury and nobody knows him well.” Mr. Oakhurst shook his head. “I fear Annabelle has rushed into this engagement too quickly.”

“Perhaps a change of scenery would do her good,” Mrs. Blount said.

“That’s not a bad idea. An extended stay with my sister in London may give her a fresh perspective.”

“London may not be far enough.”

Just outside the paneled double doors, the housekeeper hesitated. “I’m sorry about the warmth inside the library, Mr. Oakhurst, but His Grace frequently feels chilled these days. He insists on having the fireplace lit, even though it’s June.”

“I’ll manage, Mrs. Blount.”

“His Grace has been in one of his moods,” she said, low. “The poor man wouldn’t eat anything yesterday or this morning.”

“Did you send for a surgeon?”

“His Grace wouldn’t let me. Perhaps you can make him see reason?”

Mr. Oakhurst tapped his leather satchel. “I’m his solicitor, not a miracle worker. Nevertheless, I’ll do my best, Mrs. Blount.”

The housekeeper pushed open the doors to the library. Septimus Parker, the tenth Duke of Mansbury, sat in front of a tall marble fireplace, facing the dying embers of a fire. An enormous oil painting was hung over the mantle, depicting the late ninth Duke of Mansbury, his now-deceased wife, and his two children, Septimus and Frederic Parker. In the portrait, Septimus was nearly a grown man and his younger brother was a baby.

Mrs. Blount cleared her throat. “Mr. Oakhurst is here to see you, Your Grace.”

When the duke made no indication he’d heard, the housekeeper exchanged a worried glance with Mr. Oakhurst.

“Er…just ring for tea when you’re ready,” she murmured before disappearing down the hall.

Mr. Oakhurst glanced up at the portrait as he approached his employer. The age difference between the two sons depicted therein never ceased to impress him. It wasn’t surprising, really, that Septimus and Frederic Parker had never been close.

“Good afternoon, Your Grace,” he said. “I’ve good news. I managed to trace your brother to America, where…oh, dear.”

Shocked, Mr. Oakhurst sank onto the leather-covered footstool. From the blue pallor of his countenance and the stiffness of his posture, it appeared Septimus Parker had long since passed away.

The ocean breeze, full of promise, whipped the ribbons on Belle’s straw hat to and fro. Beaming with excitement, she stood at the ship’s railing as the ocean liner sailed into the port of New York City. Although the transatlantic crossing had taken a little over a week, more than one passenger was on deck, eager for the journey’s end. All eyes were trained on the rapidly approaching landmark situated on Bedloe’s Island in New York Harbor. The graceful lines and dull copper color of the Statue of Liberty, dedicated a scant four years ago, was spectacular against the azure August sky.

Her father joined her just then. “Now
that
is a pretty sight.”

“Why, Lady Liberty is taller than Saint Mary-le-Bow Church in London!” Belle exclaimed. “She’s simply marvelous, isn’t she? Very inspirational.”

“Indeed she is.”

The tide was cooperative and their vessel sailed up the North River, amidst yachts, fishing boats, and steamships of all sizes. The skyline of Manhattan struck Belle as beautiful.

“So many lovely buildings, don’t you think, Papa?” she asked.

Mr. Oakhurst pointed. “That spire is the Trinity Church, and it’s the tallest structure in the city at the moment. But when the World Building is completed,
it
will be the tallest.”

“Is that the domed one a little farther north? Why it’s touching the heavens!” She giggled. “Will clouds will ever get caught around the top, I wonder?”

“I wouldn’t think so. And I expect very soon someone else will build something even taller. There’s a competitive spirit in this Gilded Age of America.”

Belle gave her father’s arm an affectionate squeeze. “Oh, Papa, I can’t believe we’re here at last. Thank you for allowing me to sail with you. I know you paid for my ticket out of your own pocket.”

The attorney favored her with an indulgent smile. “I could hardly leave you home alone and unprotected while I sailed to America and back. The lovesick Sir Errol might have induced you to elope in my absence.”

“Papa, Errol is a hopeless romantic who would never ask me to do anything so improper! He even gave me a packet of seven different love poems before I left, to open each morning at sea.” Belle sighed. “I wish he were here.”

“I’m glad he isn’t.”

She gave him a startled glance. “You don’t like him?”

“It’s not that, Annabelle. My only concern is for your happiness.”

“Errol makes me happy.”

“How well can you know the man in a few short weeks? My dear, I worry you haven’t had the chance to meet many gentlemen. It’s my own fault, of course, for having chosen to be a solicitor and not a barrister. Then you could have been presented at court and moved in society like your mother did.”

“The distinction between solicitors and barristers is completely unfair, in my opinion. Why should you be barred from the gentry class just because you get paid directly for your services, while barristers get paid through solicitors?”

“Because payments to barristers are considered gifts. Fair or no, I’m considered to be ‘in trade’ and there’s nothing to be done about it. Your mother married down when she married me, perhaps, but she married for love. We were very contented, and I’d like to see you similarly situated.”

“Don’t concern yourself, Papa! If you’d been a barrister, you would have spent all your time away in London, pleading cases in court. Besides which, Errol is everything I desire in a husband. He’s high-minded, sophisticated, mannerly, has exceptional taste, and is in possession of a title. Furthermore, I met the Duke of Mansbury on several occasions. If he represents the Upper Tens of society, I’m content with far less.”

“Septimus Parker was eccentric, and it’s sad, really, that he died alone. I regret I couldn’t locate his brother sooner.”

“The Duke of Mansbury drove his only brother across the Atlantic Ocean with his ungenerous and spiteful nature, so it was his own doing!” She paused. “I suppose I should thank him, though.”

“What do you mean?”

“His disagreeable disposition has resulted in an unusual adventure of which few could boast.”

“Do you mean our quest to locate the eleventh Duke of Mansbury?”

“Indeed I do, and a nobler cause was never undertaken.” Belle’s tone was serious but she ended her sentence with a wink.

“That is so.”

“Will Lord Frederic sail with us on our return voyage?”

“I think we may dispense with his courtesy title now and call him His Grace. To answer your question, I can’t say for certain, since he didn’t respond to my cables. He and Lady Frederic may have extensive property to dispose of and therefore I can’t predict when he will finally take up residence at Caisteal Park. It’s quite possible you and I may sail back to England alone.”

“I wouldn’t mind that in the least. I expect we’ll find the new Duke of Mansbury just as disagreeable as his elder brother.”