Page 7 of Her Duke’s Secret
CHAPTER 6
“ J ones, pull around the side. I will not be long,” Harry called to his coachman as he descended from his carriage in front of Hayward Manor.
He wasn’t particularly eager to see Arabella, nor did he expect her to be pleased to see him. Yet, they both understood the necessity of their meeting to discuss their impending wedding. It would be prudent for them to be seen together, perhaps promenading or attending the opera, to quell any rumors that their marriage was anything less than genuine.
He paused at the foot of the grand stone steps, taking in the manor. The imposing fa?ade was covered with ivy and lined with tall windows framed by heavy, slightly faded drapes. The gardens, though undeniably beautiful, were overgrown, hinting at a neglect that marked the entire estate.
As he climbed the steps, the heavy oak door creaked open, revealing a liveried footman who bowed deeply before ushering him inside.
The entrance hall was grand but dim, its dark wood paneling and sweeping staircase giving it an air of faded grandeur. Stern-faced portraits of ancestors glared down from the walls, their expressions frozen in disapproval. A chandelier hung overhead, its once-glittering crystals now dulled by dust. The neglect was palpable, and Harry wondered if the master of the house cared at all for its condition.
“Harry Ridlington, the Duke of Sheffield. I would like to see Lord Worcester post-haste. He will want to see me,” he said, handing over a silver calling card with a flourish that he knew exuded confidence.
The footman looked down at the card at once and clicked his heels. “I will fetch His Lordship,” he said, before hurrying away.
Alone in the hall, Harry wandered, his hands clasped behind his back as he examined the portraits. The quiet was soon broken by the sound of approaching footsteps.
“Your Grace, what a delightful surprise,” the Earl greeted him with exaggerated warmth. “I hadn’t anticipated your arrival until later.”
His face was flushed, likely from the excesses of the previous evening, and his overly jovial manner set Harry on edge. The older man looked decidedly disheveled, his white hair standing in unruly tufts, with a few darker strands clinging desperately to their former color. Sweat beaded on his weathered skin, and as he straightened up from a deep bow, Harry noticed his hands were trembling.
The Earl seemed to notice Harry’s scrutiny and quickly clasped his shaking hands behind his back.
“No time to waste, wouldn’t you agree?” Harry said in a casual tone.
“Of course, Your Grace! Welcome, welcome!” The Earl slapped him on the back with an enthusiasm that felt forced. “It’s an honor to have you here. Tea or perhaps brandy to start the day?”
“It’s quite early for spirits,” Harry replied.
It was clear from the tremors that the Earl needed more than just relief from the previous night’s indulgence—he was dependent on drink. Harry had heard of such cases, people who required alcohol to steady themselves, to stave off the tremors that would otherwise plague them throughout the day. Could it be that the Earl was in such dire straits?
“Ah, very well. Just tea then. But for me, the special brew,” the Earl said, patting his stomach with an exaggerated sigh. “My constitution cannot handle black tea so early in the morning,” he added.
Harry understood perfectly well what the ‘special brew’ was.
“Please, come into my study. We have much to discuss before the wedding,” the Earl urged.
“Indeed, we do,” Harry replied, following him into a room lined with bookshelves and filled with the scent of aged leather and brandy—a combination that was unsurprising under the circumstances.
The Earl indicated the chair across from his desk, and Harry took a seat, his posture growing more stiff.
“I trust your journey was pleasant, Your Grace,” the Earl began, moving to the sideboard, where an array of beautiful crystal decanters gleamed.
Harry watched as the man hesitated over a carafe filled with amber liquid before setting it back down and returning to his seat.
“I’m more accustomed to company later in the day. The tea will be here shortly,” the Earl said, fidgeting slightly. “But I imagine you’re here to discuss the dowry? And the jointure, of course?”
“I assure you, your daughter will be well taken care of. I’ve just come from my solicitors in town, and this is what I’m prepared to offer in terms of jointure.” Harry pulled a folded document from his pocket and slid it across the desk. He observed the Earl’s face pale as he read the terms.
Harry had been generous, ensuring Arabella’s future would be secure, even if their marriage was more of a business arrangement than anything else.
“I take it this will suffice?” he asked, his voice cool.
“Of course, very generous, indeed,” the Earl replied reluctantly. “I’ll have my solicitor review this and finalize the details. Now, regarding the dowry, as you know, times have been difficult, and…”
Harry almost rolled his eyes at the Earl’s predictable attempt to up-play his financial woes. His uncle might think him a fool, but he was not one by any means. He’d called on his solicitor after the ball and instructed him to look into the Earl of Worcester. Thus, he knew that while the estate was not doing as well as it ought to, given its holdings, it was by no means bankrupt.
He interrupted the Earl. “I’m aware of your situation, My Lord. However, I must insist on a dowry of ￡10,000. It’s a reasonable sum, considering Lady Arabella’s standing and the circumstances.”
The amount he requested was modest by his own standards, especially given his title. His solicitor had called him mad for demanding so little.
The Earl’s smile faltered. “￡10,000, Your Grace? That is quite steep. Surely, given our desire to resolve this matter swiftly, you could accept a more modest sum? Perhaps ￡5,000?”
Harry’s irritation flared at the Earl’s blatant attempt to lowball him. “My Lord, ￡5,000 is insufficient. Your daughter is of noble birth, and despite your current financial difficulties, this match will significantly elevate your family’s status. Let’s not forget that I am, in fact, rescuing your family from certain ruin. If you wish to save money, that’s your choice, but the marriage will not proceed for anything less than ￡10,000.”
The Earl’s demeanor shifted, desperation seeping into his voice. “Perhaps ￡7,500 then? I could manage that with some effort. You must understand, Your Grace, our position is rather precarious.”
Harry’s eyes hardened. He had no intention of being swindled. “￡10,000, My Lord. If you cannot meet this requirement, we have nothing further to discuss.”
This time, he stood up, ready to leave, his earlier threat now a promise.
“Very well, ￡10,000 it is,” the Earl conceded hastily, panic coloring his voice. “For Arabella’s sake, I will find a way. But please, do sit down.”
Harry felt a perverse sense of satisfaction at the sight of the Eatl’s anxiety.
“Once this is settled, I want the marriage to proceed as soon as possible. A special license, given the circumstances, would be best.”
Circumstances you have created, Lord Worcester.
“Naturally,” Harry replied instead, resuming his seat.
Just then, Arabella appeared in the doorway, her footsteps light on the polished floor. She had evidently overheard the entire conversation, her face pale and her eyes wide with embarrassment.
“Arabella,” the Earl said, his voice softening as he turned to her. “We were just finalizing the agreement. Your future husband has very reasonable expectations. He will obtain a special license so you can marry next week. Isn’t that grand?”
“Wonderful,” she replied, her voice lacking enthusiasm, as though she’d been given a task rather than important news.
Harry rose, his expression softening as he bowed slightly. “Lady Arabella, I wished to speak with you privately before the wedding. There are matters we should discuss.”
Arabella nodded once. “Of course, Your Grace. I would appreciate that.”
The Earl clapped his hands together, beaming. “Excellent! I’ll leave you two to it. Just remember, everything will be splendid.”
With that, he exited the room, leaving Harry and Arabella alone.
“I heard the dowry being discussed,” she started, the words coming out clipped. “It seems quite profitable for you.”
Harry shrugged, maintaining a cool facade. “The amount is significantly lower than what a duke would usually demand.”
Arabella’s nostrils flared. “I’m already aware that this marriage is a charitable act on your part—you don’t need to drive that point home. A polite response would have been to say it’s worth it.”
Harry’s jaw tightened slightly. “I don’t know you well enough to determine what is worth it and what isn’t. Besides, the dowry shouldn’t concern you. You’re getting what you need—a husband to save you from ruin and a chance to leave this house. Isn’t that what you want? A life of contentment with a man who, if nothing else, will respect you?”
Arabella’s eyes flashed with sarcasm. “Contentment? Should I be satisfied just because you’ll respect me? That’s the bare minimum. No, this is not what I wanted for myself, but I have no power to change it.”
Harry’s irritation flared.
What does she want from me?
“I could have walked away, yet I chose to propose and protect you, to keep you and your sisters safe. Why do I deserve your wrath? Will you only be content when you have everything exactly as you wish? That seems rather ungrateful.”
Arabella crossed her arms over her chest, her stance defiant. “Ungrateful? For what? For being bartered off to the highest bidder to salvage my family’s reputation? And now I’m supposed to be grateful because you’ll keep me ‘safe’? Do you think that’s enough? I’m physically safe here, as long as I avoid my father, but I’m not happy. And I doubt I will be happy in your home either. I’m merely exchanging one prison for another.”
Harry was taken aback by her vehemence. He had thought he was doing a noble deed, saving her from scandal and securing her future. But now, seeing her anger and bitterness, he realized that Arabella was not the meek wallflower he had expected her to be. This woman was going to be a challenge.
Taking a deep breath, he sought a solution that might suit them both. “Perhaps we can come to an arrangement. You can live in my London townhouse, and I will reside on the estate. That way, you can have some independence and?—”
Arabella cut him off, her voice rising. “Independence? Do you not realize what that would make me look like? A banished duchess, living apart from her husband. It would ruin any chance my sisters have of finding suitable husbands, and it would confirm to the ton that our marriage is nothing more than a transaction. You would be condemning me to a life of isolation and humiliation.”
Harry felt a wave of exhaustion wash over him. This conversation was proving far more difficult than he had anticipated.
Why can’t she just be happy with what she’s been given?
“I was only trying to make things comfortable for you,” he said.
Arabella stepped closer, her eyes locking onto his. “Comfortable? You think living apart from my husband, shunned by Society, would be comfortable? You have no idea what it’s like for a woman in my position.”
Harry ran a hand through his hair, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on him. “Fine,” he relented. “You’ll live in the main house with me. I only suggested the townhouse because I thought it might give you some space, some freedom. But we’ll do as you please. In any case, the validity of our marriage in the ton’s eyes is one of the reasons I’ve come here. I thought it prudent for us to be seen together—perhaps on a promenade or some such thing.”
Arabella’s posture softened slightly, though her eyes remained guarded. “I agree. I’ve been concerned about this as well. If we are to be married, we must present a united front—for my sake and my sisters’.”
Harry nodded, sensing the tension between them ease, if only a little. “Very well. Shall we say Saturday for a promenade in Hyde Park?”
“Sunday, after church. It will be busier,” she countered.
He ran a hand through his hair and shrugged. “Sunday, then.”
“Good. I’ll leave you to it. I’m sure my father will want to discuss further details with you,” she said, turning to leave.
Harry felt an inexplicable urge to stop her. His hand shot out, catching her wrist. She jerked to a halt, turning to look at him, her lips slightly parted.
He suddenly realized he might have made a mistake—or perhaps he hadn’t.