Page 2 of Her Temporary Duke (Rakes and Roses #2)

FLEET STREET, LONDON

S eth Redmaine, Duke of Bellmonte, could not tell upon waking if the noise he heard was a loud banging at his door or the remnants of red wine in his head.

He groaned, rolling over on his bed. He was fully dressed and even booted.

His mouth was dry, and his blonde hair was in wild disarray about his high-cheeked face.

Eyes that were usually the bright gleam of emerald were now tainted with red.

The room was blurred for a moment. He blinked, rubbed his eyes, and waited for the room to stop spinning.

It resolved itself before him. A bedroom with bare floorboards and rafters in which pigeons nested.

A narrow window looking out over the tumbled rooftops of the city towards the white edifice of St Paul’s.

Beyond the room’s only door was another room, and the door that Seth now realized was making the offending noise.

“Pipe down! I am coming!” he shouted, but immediately regretted his volume.

Staggering from the bed, he made his way into the other room, which had sparse furniture, none of which matched. He tripped over a rug and found the door locked. A moment’s searching revealed that the key was in the lock. Seth chuckled at his own foolhardiness and opened the door.

“Well, about time!” Elliot Harding exclaimed.

He was the same height as Seth but slim, while Seth was broad. His hair was brown, as were his eyes, and his lips were thin, with a slightly receding chin.

“I have been knocking out here for the best part of half an hour. There!” he suddenly exclaimed, “that is the bell of St Paul’s sounding the hour. Exactly half an hour I have been out here!”

Seth stepped aside, allowing his friend, the Viscount of Arkendale, to enter.

“My apologies, Elliot. I was dead asleep,” Seth flung himself into the embrace of an armchair. “There is flint and tinder on the mantle. Start a fire; there’s a good chap. Then we can have some tea,” he added.

“Dead drunk , more like,” Elliot groused.

“The one circumstance does tend to follow the other,” Seth commented.

“Are you alone, at least?” Elliot said, craning his neck to peer towards the bedroom.

Seth smirked. “Feel welcome to have a look.”

Elliot crossed himself. “No, thank you. Anyhow, there is no time for tea. You are supposed to be promenading with your betrothed. You had clearly forgotten.”

“No, my friend. I had not forgotten. At least, I remembered before I began drinking last night. After that, forgetfulness is another condition that follows from being drunk,” Seth murmured.

“She will be furious. I am not sure your betrothal will withstand this latest insult. Which it is bound to be perceived as,” Elliot replied, pacing the room.

That is precisely the state of affairs I had hoped to achieve when I imbibed my first glass of that terrible red.

Where was that? Somewhere in Cheapside, as I recall.

Well, that will hopefully make three broken engagements out of three.

And none ended by my own hand. Enough to satisfy that damnable clause of my father’s will.

“I suppose we can still salvage something. I have sent word ahead that you are under the weather but determined to keep the arrangement. She should be suitably impressed that you are dragging yourself from a sick bed,” Elliot declared with no little pride.

“What would I do without you, Elliot, old boy,” Seth murmured, trying to sound contrite and relieved.

This would be so much easier if I could bring my oldest friend into my confidence. But dear Elliot, you are far too good a Christian to approve, and I must keep you in the dark.

“I sometimes wonder. Now, where in this hovel do you keep a washbasin?” he looked around, “I mean, why do you insist on living in this garret when you have an entire mansion at Hillcrest, within sight of Hampton Court, too!”

Seth reached under his chair and came up with a battered tin basin.

“Water can be found from the pump at the horse trough outside,” Seth replied, “would you care to get me some?”

“Get your own!” Elliot exclaimed, snatching the basin from Seth, nonetheless.

“I must change my clothes, Elliot. If you could furnish me with fresh water, I can be presentable in two shakes.”

Elliot groaned. “And then we must hurry. My carriage awaits us downstairs to take us to Hyde Park and keep your promise. I only hope the Lady has not grown tired of waiting.”

Seth levered himself out of his chair, swaying momentarily and steadying himself. He clapped his hands together.

“Elliot!” he declared flamboyantly, “I am quite persuaded of the urgency of your errand. If you wouldn’t mind fetching me wash water, I will do my utmost to be ready and try to salvage something from this appointment.”

Elliot looked skeptical but acquiesced, grumbling to himself as he left the room. Before he had gone far, though, he called back.

“It seems I am also your appointments secretary as well as your servant. There is a gentleman downstairs waiting to speak to you. I shall send him up.”

Seth was about to ask who the gentleman was when he heard a voice he recognized.

“Never mind, Lord Arkendale, I am already up.”

The voice was precise and smooth, slightly out of breath.

A man appeared in the doorway, bowing to Elliot as he passed him in the hall.

He wore black, a large overcoat that he seemed to huddle within.

His head was bald, and his skin pale. His eyes were dark and birdlike.

He was slender with long, fragile-seeming fingers and a thin smile.

“Ah, Master Monkton, what a pleasant surprise,” Seth exclaimed insincerely.

“Indeed, I have not spoken to you in person since I executed your father’s will, Your Grace. Partly because you have proved yourself a difficult man to find.”

“You have been looking for me?” Seth furrowed his brows, feigning ignorance.

“On occasion, when you have not responded to my correspondence,” Monkton replied, looking around the room. “I did not expect to find the Duke of Redmaine in such… surroundings .”

Seth glanced at the room. “Humble to be certain. But then, humility is a virtue. My father was Christian, if nothing else. I think he would approve.”

Monkton puckered his lips. “Do you think so? He was also a very austere man with refined tastes. I am not sure a garret on Fleet Street would meet with his approval.”

“But within sight of St Paul’s, you will note. Is this another clause of the will which I have not been apprised of?”

My father controlled my every action or tried to when he was alive, and this odious reptile seeks to do the same in death. Damn him and his clauses!

Seth sat, putting one booted foot up onto another chair and waving a hand to indicate that Tharpe Monkton, solicitor to the Redmaine family, should also sit. Monkton declined with a thin smile.

“There is no such clause, Your Grace. Your father did not anticipate that you would favor Whitechapel and Cheapside over Hillcrest. No, the only clause in the will is the marriage clause. That is the only barrier to your inheritance.”

“Hardly a barrier. I have my inheritance. I am Duke.”

“But to remain in control of the majority of your lands and your title, you must marry one of the three women specified by your father. Three women deemed to be suitable matches. Lady Catherine Halsey, Lady Sarah Vickers...”

Seth raised a hand as though to dismiss Monkton’s words. He needn’t be reminded of his ill-fated dukedom.

Most dukedoms passed cleanly, father to son, no questions asked.

Bellmonte was never that simple. It was a patch job from the start—granted to his great-grandfather as a political favor after the Civil War, back when half the peerage was still being shuffled around like a deck of cards.

Special remainder, conditional grant—it meant the Crown could revoke it if the heir didn’t meet certain expectations .

Not law, exactly. More like a threat written in gold ink.

And his father made damn sure he knew it.

“I do not wish to be reminded of those names, my dear Monkton. There is still much pain in those remembrances. I did not break off either of those engagements, as you may recall.”

“You did not, but you aren’t exactly blameless, old chap,” Elliot chirped, appearing with a full basin of water.

Seth glared at him.

Do not ruin everything, Elliot. The wrong word to this snake, and my future becomes very uncertain very quick.

“I dispute that. The lady in each case broke off the engagement despite earnest protestations on my part,” Seth added.

He willed Elliot not to elaborate on his statement. Monkton looked from Seth to Elliot with interest.

“Of course, the clause would be activated if you had ended the engagements. I wonder what Viscount Arkendale meant when he said you did not help?”

Elliot put the basin down on a sideboard, having the good grace to look chagrined at his words.

“Only that Seth is fond of his recreations. I think the lady in each case expected less time to be spent at the club. But then, that is a gentleman’s prerogative, is it not?”

Seth rose and began to strip off his waistcoat and shirt before dipping his hands into the cold water in the basin.

“Precisely. No one would expect a man with my reputation to swap club for chapel and country house instantly because he is betrothed. Do you, Mr. Monkton?”

He dipped his head into the basin, gasping from the cold. He whipped his blonde hair back from his face, peeking over his shoulder at Monkton.

“Of course not. I cannot take action because your betrothed objected to time spent at your club. Only if there is evidence of a lack of fidelity on your part...” Monkton added.

“Lack of fidelity?” Seth barked. “You refer to my reputation as a rake? I can assure you it extends to my drink capacity and love of a game of chance. Find me a single woman who will attest to being my lover. Elliot, do you know of any?”

Elliot shrugged with his hands raised. “I cannot, I have to say.”

“Nor can I. And I have tried,” Monkton stated, his voice suddenly icy.

His dark eyes met Seth’s and held them.

He knows my plan or suspects it. But can he prove it? That is the question. Prove that I deliberately drove Sarah and Catherine away to escape the marriage clause.

“It seems you are unlucky in love, Your Grace,” Monkton said, “or lucky, depending on your perspective.”

“ Lucky ? I was extremely fond of both women and was coldly rejected by both. I hardly think that qualifies as luck,” Seth replied.

“Except that being rejected by all three women specified as potential wives approved by your late father allows you to escape the marriage clause in his will. The title and estates then become yours fully. This would not be the case if it was found that you had sabotaged those betrothals. Then the estates would revert to the next male heir,” Monkton said with a supercilious smile.

Seth used his shirt to dry his face, regarding Monkton curiously.

“I did not realise there was another heir. Have you found one besides myself?” he asked.

“I have,” Monkton said with definite satisfaction.

“Well, well. You have family after all, Seth,” Elliot chuckled, “who is he, Mr. Monkton?”

“I am curious myself. I have no brothers, and neither did my father,” Seth murmured.

“But your grandfather did. Your father had an uncle, and the heir has been found on his side of the family,” Monkton replied.

“ I am the heir,” Seth retorted.

“Unless you break the marriage clause of your father’s will, which I am duty-bound to enforce. As you have been reluctant to reply to correspondence from my office, I have been forced to seek you out in order to relay this information in person.”

“Who is this usurper who would claim my birthright?” Seth demanded, suddenly cold inside.

“I am not at liberty to say. Suffice it to say that he has been informed of the clause and of the position he holds should the conditions of the clause not be met. There, I have discharged my duty.”

He smiled unctuously, rubbing his long-fingered hands together as though to warm them.

“You have, and I have an engagement with my dear betrothed,” Seth said faintly.

Suddenly, the game I have been playing has become deadly serious. I must not be caught out, or I will be unable to afford even this garret. Damn the old devil. All I’ve ever wanted is my freedom. Now, he seeks to control me from the grave as he controlled me in life.

“I wish you the best of luck in this last betrothal, Your Grace. I shall be watching closely,” Monkton remarked. “And I will not detain you from your dear fiancée any longer. Good morning to you both.”

He took his leave with a bow. Elliot watched him go with astonishment.

“I say, old man, but that’s a rum chap. Imagine speaking to one’s employer in such a way!”

Seth stared at the empty doorway broodingly.

“He knows how much power he holds over me, Elliot, and revels in it.”

“Then blast the fellow’s eyes. Marry and then dismiss him from your service for his insolence,” Elliot muttered.

“I should like nothing better,” Seth sighed, discarding his now damp shirt and fetching another from the wardrobe in the other room. “If only I could hold onto a woman long enough to marry.”

“Well, you do not help yourself, but I will not say more. The Lord moves his wonders to perform in mysterious ways.” His friend tossed him a towel.

“That is why he brought us together all those years ago at school. I will help you overcome the baser side of your nature. I recommend letting this place go to start with, and living like a proper Christian gentleman. But first things first. We must go to Hyde Park. You have an engagement to keep.”

“And an engagement to save!” Seth said with enthusiasm that he hoped was convincing.

I have tried to sink that same engagement without being seen to, just as I did with those other two forced betrothals. But now there is a legitimate alternative to me as Duke of Redmaine. I must take great care, or I may lose everything!