Page 5 of An Unforeseen Kiss (Captivating Kisses #4)

V al sat patiently as Fisham shaved him.

He had brought his valet with him to town, and they had arrived late yesterday afternoon in anticipation for his meeting this morning with Creighton.

Val had written to his father’s solicitor, telling him he wanted a full accounting of his financial holdings, including all properties which he owned and every investment he was involved with.

Creighton had said he would prepare all the documents for perusal and spend as long with him as Val needed in order for him to understand his situation.

He had done much of this prior to coming to town with Masters, Millvale’s steward.

For days, he had gone over ledgers from the past five years with the estate manager, gaining a better understanding of the crops grown by his tenants and how the estate was managed, as well as the yields of each harvest. Once he was on solid footing regarding the records of the estate, he and Masters had gone about the land for several days, meeting various tenants and allowing Val to look over things the steward was involved with.

He supposed he would need to travel to each of his country estates in order to obtain a full picture of their workings, as well, but he would save that trip until a future date.

“That should do you, Your Grace,” Fisham said cheerfully. “You’re ready to meet with Mr. Creighton.”

Even though his valet now addressed him properly, Fisham still had a lightheartedness about him, as if he were not that impressed that his employer was now a duke.

He appreciated Fisham all the more for doing so.

It seemed that other servants walked on eggshells about him.

He knew the same would be the case once he mingled with others in Polite Society.

Val dreaded returning to the social affairs in town, simply because he was now a duke.

Other men would fawn over him, agreeing with every opinion expressed from his lips, merely because he was a duke.

What would be worse would be the women flocking to him.

They would never see the man—only the lofty title he held.

In some ways, he wished he did not have to look over the Marriage Mart in order to find himself a duchess.

It might be easier to investigate his neighborhood in Kent and see if any titled noblemen had eligible daughters of a certain age that would make for a good duchess.

Rising, he said, “Thank you, Fisham,” knowing his own father had never thanked a servant his entire life.

He had told Val to barely acknowledge servants.

That they were here to see to their employer’s needs and did not require any thanks beyond the salary they received.

It was one of many ways he intended to be different from his father.

“I will most likely spend the bulk of my day with Creighton, so you are free to do as you please.”

“When might we return to Millvale, Your Grace?”

“If all goes well and I have my questions answered, I wish to do so after breakfast tomorrow morning.”

The valet said, “I will make certain things are ready for our departure.” He left the room.

Val glanced about the large bedchamber, which had belonged to his father.

It had seemed incredibly odd, coming to these rooms yesterday, rooms which were now his.

He had not been familiar with them because the duke was a very private man and had not even asked his own son into this inner sanctuary.

Val had spent time with his father in the study downstairs, however, and he needed to go through it and see what papers had been left behind.

That would be for another trip, however.

Or perhaps Fisham could bundle things up for them to take back to the country and Val could study what was brought back at his leisure.

He went down the main staircase, thoughts of his father still with him.

He paused on the landing, looking over the foyer, which was similar in size to his aunt and uncle’s townhouse.

It had only been three weeks since he and his family had gone to take tea with Uncle Arthur and Aunt Charlotte before this Season began.

Lia and Tia had been on the verge of making their come-outs, as had his cousin Lucy.

Val and Con were going to look after the three girls as they had Ariadne last year, making certain no rogues took advantage of them and that all three made acceptable matches with men of good character.

Then the world as he had known it ceased to exist.

Vaguely, he remembered ripping off his coat, placing it under his father’s head.

The duke had made strangled noises, then gibberish spilled from him.

That was when Val had known for certain that his father had suffered an attack of apoplexy.

Con had raced off for the doctor, while his aunt Charlotte had quickly taken charge of the situation.

Mama had been like a lost sheep, trailing behind as they took her husband’s body upstairs to make him more comfortable.

Pushing aside these recent, terrible memories, he made his way to the breakfast room.

Parsons greeted him. “Good morning, Your Grace. The newspapers are on the table for you. What might you care to eat this morning?”

Knowing he might be tied up all day with Creighton, he said, “Make it a hearty breakfast, Parsons. Eggs. Sausages. Ham. Bread and cheese.”

The butler nodded to a footman, who quickly left the room to report to the kitchens with the order.

In the meantime, a second footman approached, pouring tea for Val.

He would have preferred coffee but merely nodded his thanks, taking up the first newspaper and skimming through it and then the second until his breakfast arrived.

He couldn’t help but be drawn to the gossip columns, full of Society news, making an attempt to disguise who they spoke of by using only initials.

He began reading about Lady P and Lord G and knew exactly whom they referred to, as would any member of the ton .

Suddenly, something which he had always been so interested in seemed petty and insignificant.

Who cared if Lady P and Lord G had been spotted in a compromising position at the previous night’s ball?

Val finished his breakfast and had Parsons summon the carriage. Going outside, he climbed into it. It was incredibly grand, totally befitting a duke, as was the team of matched bays which pulled it.

As he rode down the streets of London, he thought of how lucrative the past few harvests at Millvale had been.

His greatest fear was that he would need to wed a woman with a large dowry and not one of his choosing—or liking.

So far, Millvale provided him with a steady income, but it remained to be seen what else his father had been involved with.

Once more, Val tried to tame the anger within him at being left out of anything regarding his ducal responsibilities.

Yes, he had enjoyed life—perhaps a little too much—just as his father had instructed him to do.

The only true duty he had been given had been to help Ariadne in choosing her husband, and his sister had managed to find a good man all on her own without any help from her brother.

Yet now, he wished he had been more insistent about learning more in regard to the family’s finances and investments.

Then again, his father was not one who easily shared any kind of information and had always pushed aside all Val’s requests to discover more of what lay in his future.

At least he knew that Creighton must be an excellent solicitor. Millbrooke would not have retained him for so many years if he had been deficient in any way.

He arrived at Creighton’s offices and went inside.

“The Duke of Millbrooke, here to see Mr. Creighton,” he told the first clerk he saw.

Immediately, the flustered man leaped to his feet. “Yes, Your Grace. You are expected. One moment. I shall bring him to you.”

The clerk vanished. Moments later, a man of average height and build, looking to be in his mid-forties, appeared.

“Good morning, Your Grace. I am Creighton. May I extend my condolences to you in the loss of His Grace?”

“Yes, thank you. It was . . . quite sudden.”

“If you would follow me, Your Grace, I spent all of yesterday organizing your papers in a logical fashion in order to present things to you.”

They moved to a room with a large table in its center, six chairs about it. Neat piles stood atop it, with about two dozen stacks total.

“Would you care for something to drink?” asked Creighton.

“Not at the moment,” he replied. “Perhaps some coffee in a couple of hours.”

The solicitor’s eyes flicked to the clerk who had followed them. “Make certain coffee appears in exactly two hours,” he instructed.

The clerk nodded and closed the door behind him.

“You may have already found copies of many of these documents, Your Grace,” Creighton began. “Naturally, my clerks always create additional copies of the originals.”

“I have yet to go through my father’s papers, so I am seeing all of this for the first time.”

Creighton looked at him sympathetically.

“You seem a most capable man, but I realize you must be somewhat apprehensive, having no knowledge regarding your financial affairs. Before we begin, let me assure you that the picture is quite rosy. Your estates flourish. His Grace chose wise managers and received the best of advice regarding his investments, which are quite diverse. You hold interests in everything from shipping to textiles to rum and tea.”

Val relaxed upon hearing this. “Then thank you for the overview. It has put my mind at ease.”

“That is good to hear. Shall we begin?” The solicitor reached for a stack of documents. “The first thing I wish to draw your attention to are the marriage settlements between your parents. Her Grace is to be taken care of.”

“Summarize these settlements for me if you would, and then you may speak more about them in detail.”