Page 1 of The Duke’s Second Bride (Regency Second Chances #4)

“ S plendid day, is it not?” Lord Barringford asked, gesturing at the gardens around them.

Christian Adler, the Duke of Richmond, bit back a grimace.

It would be lovelier without all this blasted business talk , he thought, but did his best to keep the words internal.

It was indeed a beautiful day, surrounded by hot air balloons and a variety of smaller booths showcasing delightful new inventions. He hadn’t been looking forward to the hot air balloon festival at Vauxhall Gardens, but now that he was here, he had to admit it was quite a remarkable sight.

And, of course, the business talk, however dull, was necessary.

He and Lord Barringford had been partners for years now, shipping fine and rare goods across the continent, and had done quite well for themselves over time. It would not do to insult the lord at this late date.

“We should have word from the shipbuilders next week,” Lord Barringford continued, his voice rising with excitement.

“I know it is quite the investment, putting our own money into a ship, but it will rather reduce the costs of transporting goods, and just think of the publicity it ought to give us to …”

As Lord Barringford prattled on, Christian nodded, adding in thoughtful hums every so often, but he wasn’t truly listening.

The deal had already been done. At this point, it seemed Lord Barringford was speaking less to be productive and more for the joys of hearing his own voice. Instead, Christian’s thoughts drifted with his gaze, skimming over the crowds until he reached the sight he was looking for.

A young boy, standing with his governess.

At eleven years old, Luke was already beginning to look a bit like his father: he was tall for his age, like Christian had been, and shared Christian’s blue eyes and brown hair. He even stood stiffly, shoulders hunched, in the way Christian had been reprimanded for doing as a child.

But the cut of his features was entirely Isabel, Christian’s late wife. As were his mannerisms, such as the nervous way he tugged at his governess’s sleeve, glancing furtively in Christian’s direction.

After a moment, he abandoned her and ran over.

“Well, good day to you, young Lord Luke,” Lord Barringford said cheerily.

Luke gave him a nod, but did not verbally return the greeting, instead tugging at Christian’s sleeve.

Christian resisted the urge to sink to his son’s level. Ever since Isabel’s death, he had felt so afloat in raising Luke. He loved the boy, certainly, but he never quite knew how to show it. His own upbringing had been very polished, very respectable.

Silence, obedience, and control were the values on which he was raised.

“Yes, son?” he said.

It came out more stiffly than he had intended. While his and Isabel’s marriage had not begun as one of sweeping romance or passion, she was certainly warmer than he was used to; since her death, he had been left reeling without any idea of how to show that same warmth to their now motherless son.

“What is it?” he added.

Luke pointed. Christian followed to where he was pointing, closer to the balloon, and saw a gaggle of boys, around Luke’s age, shouting and cheering and running around raucously.

“M-m-may I—” Luke furrowed his brow, clearly trying to aim his focus on getting the words out. “M-may I join th—join them? Father?”

“What’s the matter, lad?” Lord Barringford said with a chuckle. “Cat’s got your tongue?”

He glanced over at Christian, clearly expecting him to agree.

When Christian only glared at him, his face paled. “My apologies,” he murmured, straightening up.

Christian looked down at Luke’s hopeful face, then back at the group of boys.

Boys could be cruel at that age. At any age, he supposed—just look at Lord Barringford’s callous joke—but particularly as children, before the decorum expected in polite society was drilled into them.

He could just picture what would happen if he allowed Luke to go over.

As soon as he tried to speak, the other boys would tease him mercilessly.

Christian could practically hear their jeers in his head.

He didn’t say this, of course. Rather, he simply shook his head.

“I don’t want you too close to the balloon,” he lied, trying to come up with an excuse that would ruin his son’s confidence. “It isn’t safe. Go back to your governess.”

Disappointment fell over the boy’s face. But he nodded, and, after waiting for his father to pat his shoulder, he ran back to his governess.

“That’s a good boy you have there,” Lord Barringford said as they watched Luke run off. “A shame about that stutter, of course. How long has he had it? Since birth?”

A moment of silence went by. “Since his mother passed,” Christian said quietly.

“Of course. What a dreadful tragedy,” Lord Barringford said, bowing his head respectfully.

“And entirely understandable how that might provoke the appearance of an … anxious nature in a young boy. And, of course, it is still early enough that it might be dealt with. You know, there are all sorts of treatments nowadays.”

“Why would that be necessary?” Christian asked stiffly.

Lord Barringford blinked, as though it should be obvious.

“Surely you don’t mean to let the poor boy suffer an entire adolescence with that condition?

And, of course, I mean no disrespect, but you must be aware of the precariousness of your title.

There is no doubt as to your fitness to be Duke, of course, but you only inherited the position so recently. ”

He did not go into the reason why, which Christian understood. There was no polite way to recall his predecessor’s predicament.

Jasper, Christian’s cousin, had been arrested for the murder of his older brother, the previous Duke of Richmond. By taking his own life in prison, Jasper had passed the estate and title down to Christian.

It was an unpleasant story, one that nobody in the ton much enjoyed thinking about. From the look on Barringford’s face, he immediately regretted even alluding to such a horrible event.

Lord Barringford cleared his throat, and it was clear his train of thought had been similar to Christian’s. “In any case. The situation being as it is, it does you no good to have an heir who stammers.”

“I see no reason why that should concern you,” Christian cut in sharply.

Perhaps Barringford was right. He was still stepping out of line, though. If he was determined to protect his son from the bullying of children, he certainly would not allow him to be looked down upon by a grown man.

“The boy is perfectly fine. I would bid you, Lord Barringford, to keep your mind off my family, and on matters of your own,” he growled.

Lord Barringford shuddered, but nodded. “Of course. My apologies,” he said, bowing.

Christian nodded, then continued walking forward. “Speaking of matters which concern us both, I am glad to hear good progress is being made on the ship. And how have the profits been this last quarter on the goods from our previous shipment?”

Lord Barringford nodded eagerly, seemingly relieved by the shifting of the conversation to safer matters—and encouraged by his business partner’s renewed interest in their newest venture. “Of course! I will have my secretary draw up a summary of the numbers for you, but in the meantime …”

With Lord Barringford’s droning on and on, the tension in the air dissipated. Christian listened, nodded, and tried to dispel the guilt that puddled in his stomach at the thought of refusing his son such a simple request.

No , he told himself, it is for his own good .

He may not have had Isabel’s gift for affection and warmth, but it was his job to protect his son, if nothing else. He would at least do that.

After another few minutes of conversation, his guilt had dissipated enough that he dared a look back to check on Luke. Hopefully, his governess had been able to cheer him up and, failing that, perhaps the sight of the balloon rising into the air would be enough to bring a smile to the boy’s face.

However, Luke was nowhere to be seen.

His governess was, though. Her earlier calm was nowhere to be seen. She looked about frantically, pacing back and forth, standing on tiptoe to look over the crowd.

“… then there’s the—” Lord Barringford cut off his sentence when he saw Christian storming away. “Your Grace?”

Christian stomped across the grass to where his son’s governess was darting back and forth. “What has happened? Why is my son not with you?”

Looking up, the governess’s face paled as soon as she saw him. “Your Grace,” she said, redness rising to those pale cheeks. “I only looked away for a moment, I swear.”

Christian waited for no further explanation. Instead, he pushed into the crowd, using his height to scan for his son. There were several brown heads of hair, but none that were Luke’s.

Damn, damn, damn!

His one job was to protect his son, and he couldn’t even do that. Just like he had failed to protect Isabel.

He shook his head, trying to dispel the thought. His guilt over his first wife, deep though it may run, was of no use to him here.

Luke was lost, and nothing else mattered but finding him.

He pushed further past the crowd, muttering apologies to anyone who reacted with outrage. Looking over at the group of boys from earlier, he hoped that maybe his son had simply disobeyed him to play with them.

But no luck. Luke wasn’t there either.

Christian bit back a curse and continued to search the fair as his heart began to pound.