Page 5 of Her Rogue of a Duke
His mere presence was a small comfort, as Mr. Campbell had always been like family to her. Yet, Francesca did not believe there was anything that could mend the deep sorrow tearing through her soul presently.
After allowing her a few more precious moments to mourn, Mr. Campbell gently spoke again, “My lady, I understand it may be difficult to focus on anything but your loss at present, but there is an urgent matter that must be addressed. It concerns your father’s final requests, and there is… a limited time to fulfill them.”
Francesca was tempted to ignore him, to continue drowning in her pity and tears, but she knew her father would expect her to rise to the challenges that lay before her. He would not have wanted her to succumb to despair, but to uphold his final wishes for the sake of the Nightingale name and her own.
Shaking her head, she took a few more moments to compose herself, just enough so that she could hold her head up and face the solicitor as the new woman of the family.
With a sniffle, she asked, “What… what were my father’s last wishes?”
Mr. Campbell inhaled deeply before revealing, “In his final moments, he had apparently instructed his driver that he wanted his death kept under wraps. Only I am aware of this, and the driver has vowed silence in return for not being reported for his part in the accident.”
Francesca furrowed her brow, confused. “I—I don’t understand. Why would he want his death kept secret?”
“Regrettably, your father was so focused on rescuing you both from financial difficulties, that he neglected to revise his will. As it stands, the estate is set to pass to your cousin, Lord Gerard, and you would not be able to access your inheritance until you were married. And because you'd be expected to enter mourning, Lord Terrell may not be willing to wait and could pursue another match. And with Lord Gerard’s unpredictability and his… forgive me for being blunt but predilection for gambling, there is no telling where it could leave the last of the Oakvale fortune before you can even access it. Your father was a wise man, even in his final breaths.”
Francesca stared at the solicitor in shock. “You mean to say… I could be left with nothing?”
He nodded. “Yes, but do not fear. I shall manage the situation where it concerns the Baron Oakvale. However, it is crucial for you to secure your marriage before the news of his death is made public.”
“I… I can try,” she murmured, her mind racing with the countless scenarios that could unravel and leave her worse off.How precisely was she supposed to accomplish such a task without her father’s presence, let alone guidance?
“There happens to be… one more caveat I have neglected to mention, unfortunately,” Mr. Campbell added in a low tone, interrupting her thoughts. “You can no longer remain here.”
“Excuse me?” Francesca exclaimed, rising quickly. “Why in heaven must I be forced to abandon my own home?”
The solicitor gave a somber shake of the head. “My lady, the remaining staff will be dismissed, and managing the manor alone isn’t feasible,” he replied stoically. “Furthermore, if news were to spread that the Baron has abandoned you to your devices at Oakvale Manor while dismissing the staff, it might lead to… unsavory suspicions.”
Though she didn’t particularly care for the inference, Francesca recognized the truth in his words. There were already countless rumors circulating around the Nightingale family, with her father’s continuous absences which many saw as neglect toward a daughter of a marriageable age. Worse, some had even attempted to take advantage of her father’s absence and the lack of staff by breaking into her home to steal whatever valuables they had left. Thankfully, the presence of the lone gardener had warded off future attempts, and so she had refrained from mentioning it to her father, who was already burdened with other responsibilities. She would no longer have the luxury with the staff being dismissed.
Reluctantly, she nodded. “Very well, I shall stay with my Aunt Priscilla—”
“Pardon me, but I must advise against that also,” Mr. Campbell hastily objected. “If you stay with your aunt, Lord Gerard may grow suspicious and discover the truth of your father. No, no, it is imperative you stay away from the Townsends and uphold normalcy in their presence. In the meantime, you must find somewhere else to stay, somewhere that you may court Lord Terrell as usual without overburdening the either of you or raising suspicions. If I may give my opinion, preferably somewhere between the Hawthorne Downs and Elmcroft.”
Francesca's brows drew together in a frown, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Where then?” she demanded, frustration and hopelessness blurring her vision. “Where am I supposed to go?”
Mr. Campbell appeared apologetic but shook his head nonetheless. “I am afraid I do not have an answer to that.”
Of course... she had learned at a very young age to never expect any measure of leniency under such dire circumstances after what her father had to go through. She turned away from Mr. Campbell and tucked her hands in between her thighs as she pondered carefully over her options. She needed a solution. But who could she rely on? She had no other family besides her aunt and cousin. She had no real acquaintances she could call upon at this time—her fair-weather friends had deserted her after her father's fortunes dwindled.
As she considered her limited choices, only one name constantly sprang to mind, and she wanted to groan with fury and frustration.
There was one person who might be able to help her. One person who would not try to take advantage of her vulnerable position… simply because he thought himself far too superior.
In her direst moment of desperation, it appeared the only person she could turn to, was the very man she detested most... the Duke of Elmcroft
“Heaven help me,” she muttered under her breath. “To save my home, I must relinquish my pride.”
“Pardon, my lady?” Mr. Campbell asked.
Facing him once more, Francesca let out a resigned sigh. “Nothing, Mr. Campbell. I assure you, I shall do my best to uphold my end of the bargain. Pray, just grant me a fortnight’s reprieve.”
Perhaps she will be in attendance at the Pemberton’s ball. She has to be out there, somewhere, and Lord knows she will not show up at my door.
Joshua sat before the escritoire in his study, sifting through a pile of invitations for various social events – balls, soirees, andgatherings of all kinds. He was not particularly fond of such events, but they were part of his ongoing effort to find the woman who had saved him from the perilous carriage accident five years prior. Since Warren’s confused words on the day he had regained consciousness, Joshua had scarcely mentioned her to anyone, expecting to be met with a similarly pitiful look and inferences that he had temporarily lost his mind. But deep down, he had not given up his hope of seeing her again.
As of yet, however, his search had been fruitless. It was not surprising, given he hadn’t an inkling of an idea where to evenbeginlooking for her. All he remembered was her blonde hair and the gentleness of her touch. Still, he reasoned she had to live somewhere in the area. Otherwise, there would have been no reason for her to be walking the cliffside under such perilous weather conditions to save him in the first place.
Joshua recognized that his search for his mysterious angel had become his secret obsession, but he did not care. His focus on finding his rescuer had at least helped him to overcome his heartbreak over Francesca. Now he could think of her without feeling anything in particular. She was neither a source of pain, grief, nor desire. She was nothing to him, and he was still rather stunned that he had allowed himself to fall into such an abominable state of being for as long as he had. After his brush with death, he had pulled himself together. He had put aside the drink and resumed his responsibilities to his title and estate, albeit with a lot less conviction. Regardless, it had been an enlightening experience, being on the brink of leaving behind everything.