Page 2 of Diamond of the Season (Heiress #1)

Chapter

Two

N athaniel sat at the table, his displeasure impossible to hide as he surveyed the so-called fruit platter, which was meant to double as a decoration.

It looked far from appealing.

The fruit appeared a week old—browned apples, overripe pears, and grapes that were starting to rot. One in particular looked like it had given up the fight and was laying half-inflated. This would never do. There was much to change in this estate now that it was his and he couldn’t fathom the late duke being so indifferent to what was happening back at his home. Did the man truly not care for anything or anyone?

Seated at the head of the table, he waited for his six wards. Women whom he had not expected to come with the estate to join him. Not that they could help being left behind, forgotten by their turk of a father. But no matter what the duke had envisioned for his children, Nathaniel could not allow that to pass. He was Ravensmere now, and they were his responsibilities, and with that decision and honor, he’d ensured they would each receive a dowry. He could let them believe that their father had, during his final months, finally thought of them, and he would not disabuse them of their small pleasure.

After several minutes, and a glass of wine later, each of the six ladies strolled in one by one, entirely unconcerned that he had been waiting the past quarter-hour. Each of them sat, settling their skirts and smiling pleasantly in his direction.

His guard went up.

“Good evening,” they murmured as they settled their napkins on their laps.

He nodded. “Good evening,” he returned, wondering why he had the sense that they were up to something.

The eldest, Lady Rosalind Ravensmere, sat in the chair to his left. She reached for her glass of water and took a small sip and offered him a pleasant smile.

He wasn't sure what to make of her. Of all his wards, she was particularly sharp, he believed, and would not take fools lightly. She was also beautiful, certainly. But there was something about her that put him on guard. Independent. Opinionated, without a qualm. He had no doubt she would make her opinion clear if she thought it appropriate.

But she was also fiercely protective of her sisters. He could tell by the way she watched them as they settled in for their meal, offering small smiles of encouragement, ensuring they were comfortable.

Once everyone was seated, he gestured for the footman to commence serving. The first course arrived, and once again, it failed to meet his standards.

He studied the dish of oxtail soup, unsure if it was even what it was supposed to be. Had it been cooked properly? Was it meant to look like dishwater? He pushed his plate away. A footman, ever observant, removed it immediately.

A good thing, too.

The sisters ate, their conversation quiet and subdued—nothing that caught his interest. But then, women's talk rarely intrigued him.

Once the estate was properly run, and a governess had been hired to guide the younger ladies here who would remain at the estate, along with a companion for Lady Rosalind for the Season, he would leave and wait for her arrival in London.

“We hope you've settled in, Your Grace,” Lady Rosalind said, spooning up her meal without hesitation, as though there were nothing wrong with what had been served .

He watched her lift a spoonful of food to her lips and fought to school his expression. As much as he could revel in the sight of her pretty mouth, the meal itself was far from appealing.

“I am settling in well, thank you.”

“I hope the estate ledgers are not in too terrible condition,” she said. “Our father’s steward did his best to manage everything without father’s guidance.”

“They are in better standing than I thought they would be, and I do not think it will be long before I have everything running just as I do at my other estate.” There was no need to tell Lady Rosalind that there was very little money left, and the reason the estate had far fewer servants than it required was proof of that. Had the ladies of the house not noticed the dusty furniture, the lacklustre meals, and cold rooms? Perhaps they were so used to the conditions they had been living in that they merely did not notice.

She threw him a small smile. “Father rarely came here in the last years of his life. In fact, I do believe it had been five years since he’d celebrated Yuletide here before he passed.”

“Indeed, he did not,” Lady Evangeline confirmed. “It has indeed been five years since he spent Christmas here. I have it written in my journal.”

Nathaniel considered their words. The late Duke of Ravensmere had been an odd man, cold and distant, even to London. In fact, he could count on one hand how many gentlemen the duke spoke to at Whites. It was a wonder his daughters had turned out as warm and kind to one another as they were. But perhaps that was the reason—they had found love, companionship, and guidance in one another, rather than in their father.

“Do you think you will spend Christmas here, Your Grace?” one of the younger sisters, Clementine he believed, asked.

“Possibly,” he said. “I have another estate in Surrey that demands my time, but now that Ravensmere is mine, I suppose I must divide my attention between the two.”

“Do you think we might return for Christmas and holidays?” Isabella asked. “This is our home. We would be loath to lose it completely once we are married.”

Nathaniel nodded. He saw no issue with the ladies visiting their childhood home—so long as he was not there. They could enjoy their reunions without his presence well enough.

“That would be perfectly acceptable. I can arrange for the staff to be prepared whenever you wish to return. Though be aware, I may not always be present.”

He met Rosalind’s gaze and realized she was studying him. Was that disappointment in her eyes? Surely not, what would she care if he returned here when they were present or not.

The first course was cleared away, replaced with a much more palatable second course.

“May I ask,” Rosalind ventured, “what your London home is like, Your Grace? We have never been to London—not a one of us. Papa never took us, you see. But we are eager to know what the Season will be like.”

Nathaniel suppressed a sigh. He had no desire to discuss London or all its diversions. But he supposed he had little choice. The women, for all their manners and perfect deportment he’d noticed so far, were far from ready for their debut. They would be the greenest and oldest debutantes in town.

“It is busy,” he said simply, turning his attention to his meal. “Many people and carriages, you must all take care when having an outing.”

He felt Rosalind's gaze on him, but he offered no further elaboration. London was vastly different from the countryside. He spent most of his time in clubs, rarely attending balls. As for Almack’s? Well, he would rather expire of boredom than attend that cesspit. But now, he supposed, he would have to go and do right by his ward.

“Do you have a busy social life in London, Your Grace?” the youngest sister, Clementine asked. “Will we be hosting balls or simply attending them? ”

“Oh yes, do tell us, Your Grace,” Angelica added. “I am twenty this year. If Rosalind finds a match, it will not be long before I make my debut.”

“Are we not all going to be the oldest debutantes in London?” Evangeline said dryly. “How humiliating that shall be, but a necessary evil I suppose.”

Nathaniel ate more quickly, eager for the meal to end. He did not wish to be interrogated or bombarded with questions over the Season further.

“Are you pleased with inheriting, Your Grace?” Rosalind asked at last. “As much as Mama tried, she never had a son—only us six girls. So…” She paused. “Becoming a Duke must be exciting, I imagine.”

Nathaniel cleared his throat, not wanting to repeat what he’d said the moment he was informed. Such curses were not for ladies’ ears, but it had been only from mere shock. That and the following shock at finding out how very poor the title was. “I was surprised, Lady Rosalind, to be the first in line for the title.”

“Well, we think you shall do a very fine job, Your Grace. We cannot thank you enough for taking us on and supporting us through our Seasons in town. That father thought of us in his final days is a great comfort, and he would be pleased to know his heir is an upstanding and thoughtful man.”

Nathaniel drained his wine and pushed back his chair. He was not an upstanding man. Hell, in London he had a reputation for being quite the opposite, especially when it came to the opposite sex. He was a bachelor, and now with two titles, his popularity would be twofold. Having to escort Lady Rosalind about town would also place him in social situations he had avoided up until now. For all his delight at being a duke, it also had it downfalls.

“Excuse me, my ladies. Enjoy your evening.” He left swiftly, keeping his gaze forward and not at the shocked, and dare he say it, hurt expressions of his wards. His hurried steps did not halt until he was ensconced in the sanctuary of the library. He shut the door and locked it, hoping to end any further conversations for the night. Who knew women could talk so much or ask so many questions. He was utterly exhausted.

And he would have to do it all again tomorrow.

The thought was like a death knell in his mind.