Page 3 of An Unforeseen Kiss (Captivating Kisses #4)

V alentinian Worthington, the former Marquess of Claibourne, watched as his father’s coffin was lowered into the ground in the Willowshire churchyard. He was now the Duke of Millbrooke.

And totally unprepared to fulfill his ducal responsibilities.

It wasn’t that he did not possess the intelligence or that he lacked empathy for his tenants.

Val had simply been prevented from ever having anything to do with his future, thanks to his father’s iron grip on the dukedom.

While he had never sought to usurp his father’s authority, Val would have liked to have become involved to some extent with the various properties owned by the Worthington family.

He had longed to be made aware of their investments, as well as to have a clear picture of the financial situation he would one day inherit when the title fell to him.

He wasn’t a fool, having moved in Polite Society for several years now after leaving university.

He knew sometimes the heads of families made unwise business decisions or even gambled away family fortunes.

To the world of the ton , these matters could be hidden.

Bills from tradesmen would go unpaid. Food and wine merchants might be left in the lurch.

Sometimes, years could go by without entitled noblemen paying for any goods and services, the head of the family simply ignoring a downward financial spiral.

What would he find now that he had access to any secrets his father might have kept?

The duke had always brushed off Val’s concerns when he voiced them, telling his son and heir apparent to simply enjoy the bachelor life. Millbrooke had held strong opinions and even stronger convictions, and Val knew there would be no going against his father. So, he did as requested.

He enjoyed himself. Probably more than he should have.

His reputation was that of a charmer. Val Worthington was downright irresistible, to both men and women.

He had an aura about him which drew others to him like a moth drawn to a flame.

Everything came easily to him, from academics to sports.

His school chums were merely acquaintances, though.

He never let any of them get too close to him, except for his cousin.

Con was like a brother to Val, and they had been close for almost twenty years.

They had gone away to school together. Even shared rooms during university and even afterward in town.

They had also made their way through women of the ton , albeit with discretion.

Family was important to him, though, and he was close to his three sisters.

Ariadne had made her come-out last Season, wedding the Marquess of Aldridge.

She now lived at Aldridge Manor in Surrey and had given birth to their first child last week.

Val had yet to meet little Penelope. With his father’s recent death, he wasn’t certain when he might be able to do so.

Not only would he need to learn everything about being a duke, he would also need to prioritize the wellbeing of his mother and sisters.

Mama had taken her husband’s death hard.

Thankfully, Aunt Agnes had been with them in town before the start of the Season when his father had died suddenly.

She had accompanied them back to Millvale.

As his mother’s closest friend, Mama would lean on Aunt Agnes in the coming days and weeks.

He was more concerned about the twins. Lia and Tia were meant to make their come-outs next month.

Obviously, that would not occur since their house was in mourning.

He knew how much the pair had looked forward to the Season and hopefully finding their husbands.

They would most likely mourn the loss of a year away from Polite Society more than the death of their father.

Millbrooke had been cold to all three of his daughters.

While the duke favored his son and heir apparent, Millbrooke was a man who kept everyone at a distance, other than his sister.

Val’s Aunt Charlotte, mother to Con, Lucy, and Dru, always had a special closeness with her brother, and the family joked how Aunt Charlotte was even more formidable and stubborn than the duke himself.

Lucy would make her own come-out this Season.

He supposed Dru would do so the following year.

At least Tia and Lia would have that cousin to share in the social whirl.

The vicar finished his prayer, indicating the service was all but concluded.

He nodded to Val, who went and scooped a handful of dirt, tossing it atop the coffin now resting in the ground.

As he moved away, others in attendance did the same.

He moved toward the carriage and entered it, the coachman taking him back to Millvale.

He had called for his horse to be readied to ride to the funeral service, but Quigby, Millvale’s longtime butler, had pulled Val aside, telling him it would be more fitting for a duke to arrive in his ducal carriage for the service.

To him, hearing that felt like the last of his freedom slipping away.

From now on, he would be judged differently because he was a duke.

He must maintain a certain standard. Be a leader in Polite Society.

Even take on a bride. After all, a duke needed an heir—and hopefully, a spare—to keep order in the family.

He had thought he had years before he would need to wed.

Now that, too, was something pressing upon him.

As he returned to Millvale, he knew to prepare himself for the onslaught which would follow.

Neighbors from the area, along with various residents of Willowshire, would soon be descending upon the house to offer their condolences to the family.

Cook and her staff had been busy the past two days, preparing for the numerous guests.

He arrived home and entered the house. The twins met him.

Women rarely attended funeral services, and he had asked them their preference.

Both had admitted that they wished to remain home, with Tia, as usual, being the most vocal.

She had confessed that she did not want to go to the church and graveyard because she would have to muster tears.

She said their father had rarely spoken a word to either her or Lia, and she did not feel any sadness at his passing.

Though left unsaid, it was obvious that Tia was resentful in having to postpone the Season she had looked forward to, all because of their father’s untimely passing.

Lia had silently nodded, agreeing with her sister, so Val had not pressed them to accompany him.

Mama, who was visibly upset, had been in no condition to go with him. He only hoped she might rally and be able to receive their guests.

“Did everything go well?” Tia asked him.

“Yes. Mr. Clarke did a nice job with the eulogy. A good number of others were present. We need to prepare for a large crowd to arrive soon.”

Lia touched his sleeve. “How are you , Val?”

She was the more intuitive of the two, so he wasn’t surprised by her question.

“I am still in a bit of shock,” he admitted. “Things will change quickly now. I know that I have much to learn.”

He mentally berated himself because he could have been more prepared.

As Marquess of Claibourne, he’d held a small estate of his own.

Because of his father’s encouragement, however, he had merely hired a competent steward and let the estate manager deal with all matters.

Instead of spending more time at that country estate, preparing himself for the eventual day he would become the duke, he had enjoyed his time in town, carousing as most young men of his social standing did.

Regret filled him now for being so shallow.

Lia squeezed his arm. “You will make for a wonderful duke, Val,” she assured him.

“You are very smart—and very stubborn,” Tia teased. “You will learn what you need to and then act accordingly.”

“Where is Mama?” he asked.

“In the drawing room,” Tia told him. “With Aunt Agnes. I am so glad she returned from town with us.”

Val had always liked his aunt Agnes. She had married one of his father’s cousins and had been widowed many years ago by her husband’s early death in a carriage accident.

It had also claimed the life of her second son.

Lucius had been only eight years of age.

The earldom had gone to Aunt Agnes’ older boy.

Hadrian was ten when he came into his title.

He had learned that Hadrian now went by Tray, being the Earl of Traywick.

Val couldn’t blame his cousin. Hadrian wasn’t a modern name.

In fact, none of the cousins had fashionable names.

All ten of them had been named after Roman and Byzantine emperors and empresses since his father, Aunt Charlotte, and their cousin, his uncle George, had all been fascinated by history.

Several of the cousins, including Val himself, went by more diminutive forms of their pompous names.

He noticed Quigby hovering in the foyer and told the butler, “Tell Cook and Mrs. Quigby to get ready. The hordes will descend upon us soon.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” Quigby said, making a quick exit.

“Oh, dear,” Lia fretted. “I suppose we are to call you Millbrooke now.”

He touched her cheek. “Only when others are around. I will always be Val to my sisters.”

“I am glad of that,” Tia declared. “I know it defies convention, but I do not think I could ever call you Millbrooke, Val. Millbrooke is Papa.” She frowned. “You are nothing like him.”

He caught her hand and squeezed her fingers. “I hope to be a good duke. Not that our father wasn’t, but I wish to be my own man and cut my own path.”

“You will need to wed now,” Lia said, ever practical. “Perhaps you should return to town and attend the Season. I heard Mama and Aunt Agnes discussing it. They said that men are not bound by the same constraints of mourning as are women.”