A Kind Duke for the Widow (Preview)

Prologue

Mrs. Charlotte Pembroke sat in the large leather armchair and wished desperately for things to be the way they once were. Her cousin, Viscount Julian Rutledge, sat on the other side of the large desk, a man in his thirties, but she still recalled him as the young boy who would chase her with frogs.

At twenty-five, Charlotte was a widow. Along with the mourning, came endless serious conversations and meetings, all of which seemed completely out of her control and without any sense. It might have helped if she’d had time to settle into her new life without her husband. However, the world didn’t wait for those who suffered.

She pinched her thigh, her only trick to stop the tears from welling in her eyes as her mind wandered. Something that had not gone unnoticed by Lord Rutledge.

“I need you to listen to me,” he said sternly. “This is important, and I’m not entirely certain you understand that.”

Charlotte blinked a few times, fighting back the nausea caused by the cigar smoke that swirled from the ashtray on the desk.

“I’m listening,” she said. “I’m just tired. If I could rest for a few hours, we can start again.”

Lord Rutledge clenched his jaw. “We’ve tried that,” he said. “You go to rest and don’t return. No, this time you will see this through.”

The last thing she wanted was to listen to what he had to say. Her heart thumped in her chest as she tried to hold onto her sanity. One look at her cousin and she knew that there would be no space for argument. She pinched her thigh again.

“I know things have been difficult without your husband,” he said in a feeble attempt at sympathy. “But the world moves on and so must we. With that, we need to talk about what to do with Henry.”

Henry was the only person that Charlotte wanted to see that day. She thought of him, playing with his toys while she sat there and struggled through the conversation. Henry was only seven years old and would grow up to never know his father. Just the thought of it tore through her chest.

How could she remain in that seat, cigar smoke swirling around her as the wind howled outside, while her son was elsewhere? She was desperate to get to him again. However, it seemed her only chance at that was to sit through the conversation and make it through to the other end.

“We must talk about what happened yesterday,” Lord Rutledge said.

He was referring to an argument that had occurred between the two of them. There had been a time when they’d gotten along. That good relationship had ended when Charlotte’s husband died, and her cousin took control of the household.

One tragic riding accident had plunged her into the darkest place she’d ever been in. When she married her husband, she did so with the idea that they would never be apart. A life without him seemed impossible. Now she was living that experience, and it was so much worse than she could ever have imagined.
“I hardly think it’s that important,” Charlotte said.

“It is,” Lord Rutledge said. “And the fact that you think it isn’t, frankly, concerns me.”

“Well, you have me in your chair now,” she snapped. “Why don’t we just get through it.”

Lord Rutledge let out a loud sigh and leaned back in his chair. His brow settled and she knew that she had angered him again. That seemed to be a daily occurrence.

“You will make this new way of life a lot easier if you just accept it,” he said.

She could not let him finish. “Accept it?” she asked. “My husband is barely in the ground and you’re asking me to just accept it? Do you hear yourself, Julian? Show me some kindness. I should not have to beg for it.”

“I have a responsibility here,” he argued. “Despite the tragedy, things need to continue here and there isn’t a minute to waste. It is my job now to make sure that you are financially sound, and that Henry is cared for and guided into a good life.”

There was nothing unusual about that, but she still didn’t understand why Henry couldn’t remain under her responsibility. Without her husband, it seemed that she was no longer needed as a mother.

“This new role of mine in your life will be much easier if you learn to do as you’re told,” Lord Rutledge continued. “I don’t have the time to argue with you every day about every small matter.”

“You made it seem like a much larger matter yesterday,” she said.

“Please, be patient with me,” he asked. “This is tough on all of us.”

Charlotte tucked a stray strand of her auburn hair behind her ear and turned toward the window. If she was going to listen to him, then she couldn’t also look at him. They weren’t getting along, but she hoped that it might change soon. That would depend entirely on whether or not he gave her back control of her son.

Outside, the weather was turning bad. Closer than that, she saw her own hazel brown eyes staring back at her in the reflection of the window. Dark bags hung beneath her eyes, and her face seemed withdrawn. She was a fraction of the woman she’d been just weeks before.

Charlotte no longer remembered the sound of her own laughter. All she knew was sadness and worry.

“The fact is that I am Henry’s legal guardian now,” Lord Rutledge said, and her eyes snapped back at him, burning with anger. “If you do not learn to comply with my requests, then I will be forced to take legal action and deem you an unfit mother.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” she said, her voice bordering on a snarl.

“I will do what I believe is right,” he said plainly. “Now, it is up to you. You can be part of his life, provided that you make the necessary adjustments to your new life.”

That was precisely why she had avoided having that conversation with him. Charlotte knew that he would say many things she didn’t want to hear. Her cousin wanted full control of their finances, including the small portion left to Charlotte. That was hers, and he wanted it, too. He’d made mention of that shortly after his arrival.

“I am his mother,” she said. “I know what is best for my son. You’ve not even known him until now. How do you expect to make the right decisions?”
“Because I understand the world, Charlotte,” he said. “There is much in this world that you have been shielded from. I intend to be a role model for Henry, to show him what it is to be a gentleman and a success.”

She pinched her thigh again, this time so hard that she knew it would add to her already growing collection of bruises. However, it did nothing to stop the anxious bouncing of her leg.

“I’ve had a look at the books,” he continued, as if he hadn’t just made the worst threat toward her that any woman could hear. “A few tough decisions will need to be made, but with my help I think we will be just fine.”

In her mind, Charlotte imagined running from her life. She pictured taking what little money she’d been left and packing up Henry’s bag, taking off on a ship and sailing as far away from London as they could get. Only she knew that eventually they would be found, and Henry would certainly be taken from her.
“Would you really have my son taken from me?” she asked, refusing to move on with the conversation yet.

“If it is what I need to do, yes,” he said.

“You are heartless then,” she accused him.

“Quite the opposite, actually,” he said with a smirk. “It is because I care so much that I make these threats. You are grieving and I worry that you’ve not entirely considered your new position in this world.”

“I’m perfectly aware that I am a widow,” she said sternly.

“It’s more than that,” he responded. “Your… situation, makes it so that you will likely not be married again. Henry will be the only child you ever have. I want to make sure that you take your responsibility to him as seriously as I do.”

He was referring to the fact that Charlotte was unable to have any more children. After the birth of Henry, complications made it so. She swallowed back her words, knowing that if she spoke them she would certainly lose her battle.

All she could muster was a nod. If she could make it through their conversation, she could get back to her son and hold him so tight that he complained. It was that thought that gave her courage to continue. Her tears could come later when she crawled into bed.

“Right, now, as I was saying,” Lord Rutledge continued. “I have the unfortunate role of making some tough decisions. The first of which has to do with the stables and the horses.”

“What of them?” she asked, her chest tightening.

“We’re going to have to sell them,” he said. “We’ll keep enough for travel, but the rest we will sell to a local breeder. I believe they will fetch a good amount.”

“They better,” she said with a scoff. “We chose them with care. Is there not something else we can do first? Henry loves those horses. He’ll be heartbroken without them.”

Lord Rutledge shrugged. “That’s the best idea I have,” he said. “It will work and, while it might be an adjustment, you will thank me for it later.”
“Will you be the one to tell Henry about it then?” she asked.

“I don’t mind,” Lord Rutledge said with a shrug.

He seemed far too pleased with himself. Charlotte was becoming more restless. She turned her face to the window again, unable to look at her cousin without glaring at him. The weather and her mood seemed to be a perfect match that day. Heavy drops landed on the windowpane, rolling over her reflection like the tears she fought back.

Charlotte was acutely aware of his eyes on her then, as if he was scrutinizing every part of her.

“Have I not had to make enough changes already for now?” she asked softly. “I’m not yet comfortable with the emptiness of my bed when I go to sleep at night, or my husband’s empty seat at the table. Must everything happen so quickly?”

“If we’re to keep our position as it is, yes,” he answered.

“Perhaps Henry and I should just go somewhere for a few days,” she said. “Just so that we can prepare ourselves for the future we face. Along the coast maybe.”

“Ah yes, that brings me to the next topic that I must discuss with you, as if has to do with Henry’s very near future,” Lord Rutledge said. “I think he needs the best schooling that we can possibly afford. That is the best way to set him up for a successful future.”

She couldn’t argue with that, but still her cousin looked at her as if he was about to say something awful. He tapped his fingers nervously on the desk and peered at her, his face paling slightly.

“What is it?” she asked nervously. “I can see something’s wrong.”

“There is only one school that suits that description,” he said. “It is a boarding school a little while away from here.”

“No.” The words fell from her lips almost immediately, accompanied by a heavy sinking feeling in her stomach. “Please, he’s all I have.”

“I know you’re against it now, but when he returns and you see all he’s become, you’ll agree with my decision,” Lord Rutledge said.

Charlotte shook her head. “Please, don’t do this.”

She could not fight it any longer. Heavy tears filled her eyes, finally spilling over her cheeks. She could not possibly feel more distraught. Lord Rutledge cleared his throat, and she saw something break in his demeanor.

“We’ll give it another year,” he said, sending a wave of relief through her. “If I am not happy with his education by then, I will not hesitate to send him. I still think the school is his best option. We can revisit it before his next school year.”

She nodded, but she couldn’t find any more words to say. Charlotte and Lord Rutledge had known each other their entire lives. He was a stubborn man and, once he’d made up his mind about something, it couldn’t be changed.

When the new school year started, she was certain that Henry would be sent away.

“We’ll leave it there for today,” Lord Rutledge said. “I can see that this is enough now. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to approach these subjects with you.”

Charlotte rose silently to her feet and headed for the door. If she was not going to argue with him, then it was best for her to say nothing at all. As she stepped out of his office and into the hallway, she felt as though the entire world rested on her shoulders.

Her life was crumbling around her. She barely recognized her world anymore. There was no comfort for her in it anymore. When she’d felt sad or worried before, she would turn to her husband for support and guidance.

She thought of Henry, alone at boarding school and saddened without his father. It broke her heart completely. Worse than that, what would stop Lord Rutledge from going to court to take full custody of her son?

Her feet carried her to where she had left her son with his governess. When she opened the door and saw him there, she felt a wash of relief. What mattered was that she still had him close and that, for now, he would not be sent away.

Charlotte would fight as hard as she could to keep custody of her son, and what little control she had left of her life. She was raised by a high court judge, if she just thought carefully about things, she knew that she could make it work for her.

If selling the horses made Lord Rutledge happy for now, then she would allow it. And she would do so with a smile.

“Everything alright, Mrs. Pembroke?” the governess asked, looking at her carefully.

Charlotte was aware of the redness in her eyes, and the blush of her cheeks from the crying. That didn’t bother her. It was the look of a woman in mourning for her husband, wasn’t it?

“I’m alright,” she lied. “Thank you. Why don’t you take a small break. I’d like to go out to the stables with Henry to spend time with the horses.”
The governess smiled and nodded her head.

The instant that Charlotte felt Henry’s small hand in hers, she felt at ease again. As they walked toward the stables, he spoke of innocent things like cats and butterflies. It was a refreshing change from her heartache.

Her son shared the same eyes as her husband, and the same sweet smile. She hoped that he would grow up to be like her late husband, rather than like Lord Rutledge. What a cruelty it was that Henry would be raised without his father there.

As they neared the stables, he pulled his hand from hers and ran ahead, eager to meet with his favorite horses. The horses welcomed him happily, bowing their heads to let him stroke them on the snout.

“Careful!” Charlotte said, with what felt like the first laughter she’d had in weeks.

It saddened her to think that the horses would be gone soon, but she knew that Henry would understand if she explained it to him properly. She just needed to pick her words carefully. As she joined him at his side, she knew that she would need to find her courage if she was going to get through any of it.

Her life had changed at the drop of a hat, and if she didn’t adjust, she would only continue to suffer. So, she took a moment and steeled herself against the future. If she could keep Henry at her side, she would be alright. That was her priority, and she would do whatever it took to make sure that happened.

Away from the house, she worried that she might never feel peace again. But for a moment, tucked away in the stables, she and Henry could be quiet and happy, and it was all she could have asked for that day.

Chapter One

The tea house in the center of London was a good place to disappear for a while. Lord Sebastian Ashford, Duke of Westbridge, sipped his tea as he and his valet, Phillipe stared out the window. They watched the people of London stroll by, invested in their own lives. The men had been tired following their return from Italy.

London felt emptier than it had before. There had been a time when it seemed like the most beautiful city in the world to Sebastian. Now he felt as though he’d rather be anywhere else in the world but there.

His dark black hair was long—something his mother reminded him of every day. He liked it that way, it made him feel like a different person, which he often longed to be.

“What will you do this afternoon?” Phillipe asked in his French accent.

“I think I must have my hair cut,” Sebastian answered. “If my mother makes another comment about it, I might walk out of the house and never return.”
“That’s a pity,” Phillipe answered. “I’m rather fond of your current appearance. You look like a well-traveled man.”

“It makes me stand out,” Sebastian said. “I’m not entirely certain I like that.”

Sebastian looked around the room at the other tables, where patrons went about their conversations with smiles and laughter. All of them most likely followed the same blueprint for life. It seemed like a step-by-step guide at some point had been created and all people of London were expected to live their lives accordingly.

They were born, they learned, they grew older, they married and had children, took over the family business, died. Some people became great in the process, while others merely survived.

“I miss the weather in Italy,” Phillipe said with a sigh. “Soon my sunkissed skin will fade and I’ll have the same sickly complexion as all these people around us.”

Sebastian chuckled. “You’ve never been pale. You have, however, always been dramatic.”

“I miss the wine, too,” Phillipe said. “In Italy it seems to flow so freely. I’m French. Good wine is better than life itself when you find it.”

“What happened to the bottles you brought back with you?” Sebastian asked.

“I have hidden them from myself,” Phillipe said. “I wish to cling to them until such a time that I can afford more.”

Sebastian chuckled. His friend and confidante had a way of turning even the smallest of things into something like a scene from a play. Phillipe always had a dramatic flair, and a poetic outlook on life. That’s why the two men got along so well.

In fact, Sebastian’s social circle had become so small that Phillipe was the only person he ever spent time with outside of family.

“If you’re not going to drink them, then why did you bring them?” Sebastian asked.

“Of course I will drink them,” Phillipe said sternly. “It’s about drinking them well. That wine will not be wasted on an ordinary evening. No, it must be spared for romance and good food. Or perhaps, a glass while reading a particularly good book.”

“You do know how to live well,” Sebastian said with a laugh.

“I used to think the same thing about you,” Phillipe said.

One of the reasons Sebastian had chosen Phillipe as his valet was the fact that he spoke so freely. Often, it angered his mother, but nothing harmful was ever said. Rather, Phillipe’s accent and French demeanor made him abrasive. Sebastian enjoyed that.

“Do you have a woman in mind then?” Sebastian teased.

“In London?” Phillipe asked in shock. “Mon Dieu! No. These women follow all the rules and laugh quietly and politely. There’s no sense of adventure or lust for life. Not like the women in the Americas.”

Sebastian and Phillipe had far too much fun on their trip to the Americas. They ate and danced to excess. Phillipe was right, it was a different culture compared to London.

“Perhaps you’ll find the one American in London then,” Sebastian said. “But she might not appreciate the wine as she should.”

Phillipe shook his head. “But I will.”

They had traveled often together. There was nobody that Sebastian trusted more than Phillipe. He listened when they spoke and kept secrets better than anybody else. He could feel his mood lifting slightly just from watching Phillipe speak.

“I’ve seen what London women are capable of,” Phillipe said. “Look at you, Your Grace. You are a shell of the person you once were.” He shook his head. “I do not want that for myself.”

Phillipe was the only person allowed to speak to Sebastian in that way. His brutal honesty was refreshing compared to the usual passive-aggressive culture of the London social scene. That was because Sebastian and Phillipe had survived treacherous oceans, food poisoning, and foreign battlegrounds together. When the world was experienced so intensely the usual requirements for manners were easily forgotten.

However, Phillipe’s words had struck a chord with Sebastian. While he’d been aware that he’d changed after his failed engagement, he hadn’t noticed just how it had affected him. Not until Phillipe pointed out just how obvious it was.

“You could sell the wine,” Sebastian said. “I’m sure it will fetch a good price in London.”

“And do what with the money?” Phillipe asked. “I would only use it to buy more wine. No, for now, it remains tucked away.”

“I think you should just enjoy it,” Sebastian said. “If I were you, I wouldn’t bother storing it. What if you die before you ever get the chance to taste it?”

“Then I will drink even better wine in heaven,” Phillipe teased.

They finished their tea and headed in the direction of a local barber. London was stuffy and crowded and Sebastian found it to be stifling. It was as if the air he needed to breath would not budge further than an inch from his face. If only some rain would fall, breaking the humidity and relieving the ground of its drought.

“I’ll come and find you later,” Phillipe said. “The carriage is some distance away. I will go and get it and meet you back here.”

“Very good,” Sebastian answered before stepping into the tiny shop.

“Your Grace,” Robert greeted him respectfully with a slight bow. Sebastian refused to let his valet near his head after a minor incident with a trim, and Robert was the epitome of discretion, and quite a skilled barber. When he sat down in front of the mirror, he saw what his mother’s complaints were about.

He looked disheveled. Despite the fact that his hair had been neatly combed back and pomade was used to keep it in place, small strands still seemed to fall loosely around his face.

His green eyes stared back at him; his skin darkened from the Italian sun. Sebastian clenched his jaw. He liked what he saw in the mirror, as it looked like a different person. Someone who got what they wanted.

“Are you ready Your Grace? Same as before?” Robert waited, scissors in hand, for permission to begin. With a nod from Sebastian, he began to trim, clumps of hair falling at his feet, and he felt as though he was becoming the man he was before he’d left. He scowled. He didn’t like the way he felt. Would there be a cure for the change that had happened in him? He couldn’t be sure.

Rather than watch the transformation happen, he closed his eyes and leaned back. He was one person who had not followed the societal blueprint—something his mother often reminded him of. He came close.

While he’d taken over the family business after his father died at sea, he had failed to land himself a wife or produce any children. At thirty-two years old he was aware of just how much stress that caused his mother.

There was pressure on him to fall back in line and settle down. Sebastian wasn’t sure he could do that. Not without his heart breaking all over again. There was a woman he’d thought would be his wife and produce the heirs to the family fortune. He had been wrong and since then, couldn’t trust himself enough to move forward.

Finally, the drops that had threatened all afternoon began landing outside and it was as if the city could breathe again. With that, Sebastian felt the pressure on his shoulders subside a little, too. Rain always reminded him that he was still alive. That the Earth still had a pulse and that he was part of it.

There was something comforting, too, about bad weather. It gave him permission to hide himself away in his home and sit by the fire with a good book. When the weather was good, that behavior seemed antisocial, and it upset his family. He would choose not to join them on errands and excursions, and they would accuse him of being sour and boring.

When it rained, though, nobody questioned his decision to stay home. Dinners were warm and comforting when the rain fell, and it was as if the city fell silent. He even hoped that the rain would worsen. That perhaps he could shut himself away in his study with a glass of brandy and some poetry.

Sebastian opened his eyes again and had to stop himself from gasping. He looked just as he had when she left him. The man he saw in the mirror then was a stranger to him. It was how he’d always looked, and yet, he suddenly felt as if it no longer suited him.

His mother would be pleased, though. That was enough for him to put up with it.

When he was done, he peered outside and saw no sign of the carriage yet. That meant he had a bit of time, and there was something he wanted to do. Just down the road was a shop that specialized in chocolates and sweets. There, he knew he could find his sister’s favorite treat.

Beatrice had a smile that could brighten any day, and ever since Sebastian was a young boy, he tried to find ways to make her feel special. It was something his father had taught him. If Beatrice became accustomed to a certain treatment, then she would expect more from her future husband.

Before his father had passed, he had told Sebastian that it would be his duty one day to make sure that Beatrice chose the right husband. That she was loved and taken care of. So, each week, he found a new way to surprise her. That way, he raised her expectations.

When he stepped inside, the shop keeper already knew what he was after.

“The usual?” he asked.

“Yes please. One dozen.” Sebastian struggled against the sickly-sweet smell of chocolates in the room as the shopkeeper carefully selected and packaged the chocolates.

“Would you like a bow around the box, Your Grace?” the shopkeeper asked.

“Yes please,” Sebastian managed, trying not to breathe too deeply.

With the box secured in his jacket, and out of the rain, he stepped into the open air. The hair on his head was thinned and so cold drops felt as though they landed directly on his scalp. The carriage came to a stop in front of him and Phillipe frowned.

“Chocolates?” Phillipe asked.

“Yes.”

Phillipe shook his head. “I pity the man that needs to compete with you.”

With a laugh, Sebastian climbed into the carriage and made himself comfortable. The damp of his clothes felt good against his skin. Slowly, the streets cleared as those still out searched for cover. The city would be quiet soon and he looked forward to it.

The carriage rattled back and forth as he looked out the window. He looked at everyone covering themselves from the rain as small puddles of mud formed in the roads. He’d hoped they’d move a little slower so that he might enjoy London in the rain a little while longer.

Except before he knew it, he was already pulling up in front of his manor. Sebastian closed his eyes and thought of his brandy in his study, waiting for him to tuck himself away in there. He walked slowly to the front door, allowing the rain to remind him of life once again.

“Beatrice?” he called as he stepped through the front door. “Where are you?”

“In here!” he heard her call from the library.

“And mother?”

“Out to tea,” Beatrice called back.

He hurried to the study to greet her with the box. When she saw the box she smiled, and when she saw his hair, she gasped.
“Finally!” she said. “Now you look like my brother.”

How could he tell her that the man she remembered as her brother had been broken and changed and that a simple haircut wouldn’t bring him back?
“Are these my favorites?” she asked, taking the box from him.

“What else would it be?” he asked, removing his wet coat from his shoulders.

She tugged at the bow and let it float to the ground. The fire was already crackling as rain hit against the windows.

“Thank you,” she said softly. “You spoil me.”

“Somebody has to,” he said with a chuckle. “I’ll be in my study if you need me.”

“What?” Beatrice asked with a frown. “Already? The rain has only just begun. Sit with me a while please?”

“I have work to do, on my book,” he lied.

While work was required, he was rather in the mood to read. However, he knew that Beatrice would do nothing to get in the way of his writing. So, she grinned and ushered him out of the room, stuffing a chocolate in his mouth on his way.

“Don’t come out until you’ve completed another poem,” she instructed. “And I mean it. I want to read it.”

He had no intention of writing. So, that meant that he would need to remain closed in his office until after Beatrice had fallen asleep in order to avoid her disappointment. He tugged her hair before running up the stairs, a habit he’d had since a child.

When he closed the door, she was still berating him for it. Finally, he poured himself a glass of brandy and admired the amber liquid a moment before taking the first sip. It would numb the never-ending sense of stress he’d carried for months.

The first sip did exactly as it was tasked to do and, with book in hand, Sebastian made himself comfortable at the fire as the storm rained harder against the window. Moments like that were the only ones where he felt a sense of peace again, and he wished to remain that way for the rest of the night.