A Widow for the Brooding Duke (Preview)

Prologue

February 25th, 1817

London

Helena impatiently brushed a tendril of pale hair from her brow. Perhaps she hadn’t used enough pins to contain her curly locks, but her mind had been occupied with more important things. In just a little while, she would receive important information, but she didn’t know what to expect. A man didn’t go out of his way to send her a letter and ask to see her without good reason.

“Mama?”

Turning away from staring out the parlor window, she met her daughter’s pale green eyes—much like her own—and smiled.

“Yes, dear?”

Clarissa sat up from her comfortable spot on the plush carpet and held up her sketch. “Do you like it?”

Helena paused momentarily, her expression of mock seriousness as she inspected her eight-year-old daughter’s drawing. She had recently taken up the hobby and was already showing some talent.

“I love it, my sweet,” Helena replied. “That looks like your favorite place. I see the pond and the little statue of the fairy near the bridge. Would you like me to help you with the proportions?”

“I would love that, Mama,” her daughter replied, her rich mahogany curls shaking with enthusiastic nods. “One day, I want to be as brilliant as you.”

Helena leaned down and kissed her brow. “I foresee you’ll be better than me, my love,” she told her. “Just practice every day and always keep your passion burning.”

She picked up the pencil to plot lines on a clean sheet of paper, only to jerk back on her haunches as the door was violently flung open. Clarissa yelled in fright, instinctively grabbing Helena around her slim waist. No servant would enter the room in such a manner, so Helena could only assume it was an intruder. Yet, she had heard no commotion before the door opened, indicating the servants were likely unaware of the situation. 

Recently, several people in the area had reported thefts, mainly of costly jewels and antiques. No harm had come to any homeowners, but there was always a first time.

Inwardly shaking, Helena tucked her daughter’s head against her bosom and faced the intruder with what she hoped was a fierce expression, only to find it was her late husband’s younger brother. 

Annoyed but relieved, she frowned at him. “What is the meaning of this, Howard? How can you barge into my home in this manner?”

Clarissa’s head pulled back to observe her uncle, but her arms remained around Helena’s waist. Her daughter was wary of her uncle, and quite frankly, she felt the same way.

“I think you mean my home,” he said smugly, waving papers in the air.

Helena’s frown deepened. She was quite certain the country estate had been left to her and Clarissa. Her husband had stated as much in his will.

“Just one moment, please, Howard,” she said. Not wishing to argue in front of Clarissa, she rose with her daughter, cupping her plump cheeks. “Ask Mrs. Pearson if her son’s dog has had her puppies. I think they’re due at any moment.”

Some of the wariness in Clarissa’s eyes disappeared, but she soon knitted her eyebrows together and regarded her uncle briefly before tilting her head back to look at her.

“I want to stay here with you, Mama,” she insisted.

Helena would never cease to be amazed by her daughter’s perceptiveness and protectiveness. Clarissa was certainly wise beyond her eight years, but the matter was non-negotiable.

“I suggest you listen to your mother,” Howard said coldly.

Clarissa opened her mouth to say something, but Helena lightly touched her arm. “Please,” she insisted.

Her daughter gazed at her for a moment before her shoulders slumped, and she nodded. Casting her uncle an unreadable expression, she hugged Helena once more and left the room. Helena waited a moment after her daughter had left the room before facing her brother-in-law.

“Would you care to explain how this estate has come into your hands?” she asked calmly. “It was left to—”

“I have no time to argue with you,” Howard interrupted, tossing the papers at her. “Read them and have the servants ready your luggage. It’s time I received what belongs to me.”

Some papers hit Helena’s chest and startled her, but she managed to catch them before they met the floor. Others scattered around her. Helena was too shocked to speak. Howard had always been indifferent and polite toward her—he had hidden his emotions behind a cold facade. It seemed he no longer cared to do that.

“I do not understand,” Helena said, briefly reading the papers. “How can this estate be yours? You already have the earldom and the estate attached to it. This one is different.”

“I think you’ll find that everything belongs to me,” Howard said, his brown eyes flashing. “As it should. You already received your dowry after his death, so it shouldn’t matter that you will no longer receive an income from this property. It’s mine.”

Helena shook her head in disbelief. It was true that she had received her dowry, but most of it had been used to provide relief for other women who had lost their husbands in the war. She didn’t have any other steady income beyond what she received from the estate. Not that Howard would care.

“Your brother gave this estate to me,” she objected. “It was included in the will. I have the deed to prove it.”

Howard stiffened. “That deed is not valid,” he claimed. “I had everything assessed by a reliable source. My brother had no right to leave this estate to you—it’s tied to the earldom. Therefore, it’s mine by birthright. I am now the Earl of Dorset, and I say you can no longer receive an income from my property.”

“Not valid?” Helena asked, confused. “How? Let me fetch the deed and ask someone to—”

“You will do no such thing,” her brother-in-law interrupted. “This house belongs to me now. I’ll bring the law into this if you attempt to go looking through documents that now belong to me. Look at that deed—does it look like a forgery?”

Helena studied the deed again. Sure enough, the estate she had called home for many years was indeed in Howard’s name. It didn’t make any sense.

“But, I’m not cruel,” Howard continued. “You can move into Anderson Cottage until you can find elsewhere to live. It should be big enough for your needs.”

“But no one has lived there for years!” Helena cried, recalling the humble cottage. “It will need many repairs. Surely you would not send your own niece to such a place?”

Howard dismissed her words with a wave of his hand. “It’s character building. She’s too spoiled, anyway. You have until the end of the day to collect your possessions. Do not attempt to take anything that belongs to this house.”

Helena stared at him in shock, unable to process her alarming situation. They were being kicked out of their home, and according to the deed, she had no say in the matter. If Howard wanted them out, they had to leave.

She straightened and pulled her shoulders back. Everything was happening too quickly, but at least she could do this with dignity.

“I’m waiting to speak with a visitor today,” she said, her voice even. “Allow us to stay until they leave.”

An odd look flashed in her brother-in-law’s eyes. If she didn’t know any better, she would call it fear.

“Do you mean Mr. Henry McDowell?” Howard asked, his eyes shifting.

Helena was momentarily surprised he knew the man. She couldn’t recall if she had mentioned the soldier to her brother-in-law.

“Yes,” she confirmed. “He has some important information to share with me.”

“I already sent him away,” Howard replied, walking toward a table. “Do not bother going after him—he left by carriage and is long gone.”

He slid a finger on the surface and inspected it before wiping it on his clothing. Helena stared at him in disbelief.

“I beg your pardon?” she said. “He was my visitor, and he undoubtedly had some information about my late husband, and—”

“Yes, yes, I know,” Howard interrupted, turning to her. “I’m sorry to tell you that he just wanted money. You women are very naive about these things, so you should be grateful. Now, I believe you have some packing to do. Excuse me.”

It seemed he couldn’t leave the room fast enough. Helena watched his retreating back, her mind still twisted in shock, concern, and anger. Clarissa appeared at the door seconds later and ran toward her, wrapping her arms around her mother. Helena held her daughter close and smoothed her hair as concern for the future crept over her. Whatever it held, she would ensure her daughter would not suffer fate’s cruelty.

 

Chapter One

“Rissa? Dear? Where are you?”

Anxiety crept over Helena like vines overtaking a stately home—slow but thorough. She placed a hand on her tight chest and looked around the overgrown garden. Clarissa was a curious child who liked to explore, but she knew better than to venture too far from the cottage.

“She’s a smart girl,” she told herself. “She’s fine.”

Unfortunately, her rapidly beating heart couldn’t seem to accept those words. It cruelly reminded her that she had lost so much already. That was a self-inflicted punch to the gut. To think that they had barely settled into Anderson Cottage, but her daughter was already missing…

A wave of lightheadedness accompanied her panicked thoughts. No, she couldn’t think with such pessimism. Helena forcibly shook those thoughts away and held onto her pale blue muslin dress as a gust of wind whipped around her. Clarissa was nearby—Helena just needed to look harder. Her daughter was likely so engrossed in whatever she was doing that she had failed to hear her mother calling out to her. Clarissa had exceptional attention skills, so it wouldn’t be unusual. Helena just wished her daughter had not chosen that moment to seemingly disappear without first informing her.

Inspecting the small garden, she glanced at the tall barrier line of stones separating the property from the bordering estate. Helena had only been to Anderson Cottage once in the past, and only briefly so. During their visit, she recalled her late husband had mentioned that the estate belonged to the Dorchester family. He might have said more, but it seemed a lifetime ago, and she wasn’t in the state of mind to think about minor details.

A creaking gate nearby caught her attention. She turned to it, finding it open and gently moving in the wind. Open. She inhaled sharply as her heart skipped a beat.

“Clarissa,” Helena groaned, her mind wrapping around the situation.

They didn’t have time for this impromptu version of hide and seek on their neighbor’s estate. Helena’s first priority was settling in properly and making the cottage more livable. While the cottage wasn’t nearly as deteriorated as she had initially believed, it still needed repairs and a deep cleaning. It was the middle of spring, so it might as well be a spring clean.

“Rissa, dear?” Helena called, approaching the gate. “Are you here?”

She paused, peered into the estate, and found herself looking into a well-kept orchard. Rows upon rows of fruit trees stretched out before Helena, and just up ahead, she could see several chimneys poking above the treetops. The many trees were just the sort of thing that would attract her daughter to leave the cottage and explore the estate. Helena probably should have explicitly warned her daughter not to wander into their neighbor’s land, but she had been too caught up in concentrating on what needed to be done. Anderson Cottage was now their home, and she wanted it to be as comfortable as possible for Clarissa. She deserved that much after being kicked out of the only home she had ever known.

Some choice words about her brother-in-law rose in Helena’s mind, making her upper lip curl in mild disgust. While she was a lady through and through and would never utter vile words about anyone, that didn’t mean she didn’t think about them when the occasion arose. 

“Clarissa?” she called again, momentarily hesitating before entering the estate.

The owner would just have to forgive her for trespassing. The most important thing was finding her daughter and taking her home. Perhaps a light scolding followed by a much-needed cup of tea and biscuits would do perfectly. Fortunately, the Montgomery cook had prepared several things they could take with them and keep them satiated until Helena could fill their pantry with food, hire a cook, and possibly a gardener. Only her lady’s maid had come with her, but she had hired another maid from the area. They were busy unpacking, dusting furniture, and preparing the main living spaces for, well, living.

“Clarissa!” she cried more loudly, ducking under a low branch.

A flash of pale pink caught her eye, followed by a faint giggle. Her daughter was wearing a pink dress. Helena hurried toward the area; she had seen the color, but there was no sign of her daughter. She frowned. She couldn’t have imagined it. 

Her motherly instincts told her to look up into the trees, not just the ground. Helena observed every tree, stepping deeper into the orchard. She was surprised she didn’t see any servants about. The orchard looked too well-tended not to have an army of servants maintaining its upkeep. Her parents had once had an orchard, though not as big as the Dorchesters’. Still, at least four servants had been assigned to care for it, and more were hired for harvesting.

As Helena ventured further on the estate, she considered that perhaps it was better that no one knew they were trespassing. The quicker Helena found her daughter, the faster they could leave the place and pretend they hadn’t done anything unlawful.

Mild relief filled Helena when she finally spotted her daughter in a tree, her back turned away and seemingly looking at something in the distance. The problem was that she was too high up, and her shoes were nowhere to be seen. The thought of her daughter falling had Helena increasing her pace, determined to get her down to safety.

“Clarissa Montgomery,” she said sternly.

Helena had not meant to startle her daughter. She had only wanted her to understand that she had been caught and it was time to go home. She watched in horror as her daughter jerked slightly and turned around, only to lose her balance on the branch.

“Mama!” Clarissa cried, her arms flailing as she tried to find balance.

Helena tried to scream, but no sound came out. Somehow, she got her legs to move but knew she wouldn’t reach her daughter in time. It was every mother’s worst nightmare to be just out of reach of saving their child. Helplessness engulfed Helena, choking her with bitterness, but she kept moving toward her daughter. Perhaps she could beat fate this time. Fate may have taken her husband and home, but it couldn’t take her daughter. She wouldn’t let it.

Despite Helena’s determination, her eyes told a different story. Her daughter was hurtling toward the ground, her frightened shrieks piercing the air around them. Helena could feel Clarissa’s terror as keenly as if it were her own. Her heart constricted until she could hardly breathe, making her chest burn with every step, but she didn’t care. She would gladly go through worse for her daughter.

Time seemed to slow the closer Clarissa got to the ground, but then a great hulking figure appeared out of nowhere and caught her in his arms. Helena came to an abrupt standstill. Her legs wobbled and threatened to give way, but as much as she was relieved and grateful, she couldn’t ignore that her daughter was in the arms of a rather large stranger. She couldn’t even see his face, adding to her growing concern.

Helena only paused for a few seconds, but it seemed like a lifetime. The man had placed Clarissa on her feet by the time she reached them, thoughtfully holding her daughter’s arm as she wobbled a bit. 

“Clarissa!” Helena cried, pulling her away from the man and into her arms. “You silly, silly girl. What were you thinking? Are you hurt anywhere?”

Helena dropped to her knees and inspected the exposed parts of her daughter’s body, turning over her hands and arms and trailing worried hands over her legs.

“She seems fine,” the man said, his deep, honeyed voice taking her by surprise.

She looked up and found herself staring into the darkest brown eyes she had ever encountered. They almost appeared black. Her mind blanked for just a moment, overwhelmed by their intensity. There was power and depth in those eyes—she could feel it with every fiber of her being. Her daughter tugging on her hand brought her attention back to what really mattered—her well-being.

“I’m fine, Mama,” Clarissa said, sounding a tad exasperated with her ministrations.

However, the tremor in her voice told Helena all she needed to know. Her daughter was trying to appear brave but was undoubtedly still shaking inside. Helena wanted to scold her for being irresponsible about her safety, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it at that moment.

“You’re not fine,” she argued, rising. “You nearly—”

Helena broke off, unable to get the words out. She felt that speaking it would somehow make the situation worse.

“You were nearly hurt,” the brooding large man said, his voice laced with disapproval.

While he was right, Helena didn’t appreciate his tone or foreboding presence. She looked at him again, realizing that despite the dark air about him, he was rather handsome. A well-defined jaw with just a hint of stubble and the thickest, blackest hair she had ever seen complemented his dark eyes, making him appear like a dark lord come to exact punishment on the masses. A tiny shiver at her core told her she found that attractive. Something had to be wrong with her, especially when she didn’t know the man.

“Thank you, sir,” she said, her voice colder than expected. “But I can handle this myself.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Indeed?”

His tone almost seemed mocking, warming her cheeks with a mixture of shame and anger. It seemed as though he was questioning her abilities as a mother.

“I beg your pardon, but this is my daughter,” she said, straightening to her full height and pushing her shoulders back. “I know how to handle the matter.”

A small smirk appeared at the man’s rather attractive mouth. “Yes, I see that. You and your daughter are trespassing, yet you have it all under control. She nearly fell out of a tree, but you know how to handle the matter.”

Helena stiffened. His words cut deep with truth, but that didn’t make his words any more palatable.

“I ask you kindly not to interfere and—” she began.

He snorted, interrupting her. “Interfering? Correct me if I’m wrong, but I just saved your daughter’s life. Not to mention that you’re trespassing.”

He exaggerated the last word, his dark eyes boring into hers. He was right but didn’t have to be rude about it.

“Seeing as you’re so fond of telling me something I already know,” she began, “perhaps you can tell me what you’re doing on this land. You’re not dressed in working clothes, and quite frankly, you seem like you’re lurking around the estate.”

Helena inwardly winced at her words, hearing their foolishness, but she couldn’t seem to stop. Her emotions were riding high, and he had merely added to her troubles. She was like a boiling teapot with both openings blocked. She needed to release some steam, or she’d go insane with the unfairness she had been dealt lately.

“Lurking?” the man repeated, his face darkening.

“Yes,” Helena replied firmly. “Who are you to tell me anything regarding this land? Who do you think you are?”

“The Duke of Northumberland,” he said, looking down his straight nose at her. “The owner of this estate.”

Helena gulped as she shrank back slightly. The duke. Well, it appeared she had certainly made a blunder of a situation.

***

 Never, in Nathaniel’s thirty-five years, had he encountered such a feisty young woman. If he hadn’t been so annoyed, he would have appreciated the way her pale green eyes flashed at him and how protective she was, but he couldn’t ignore her rude manner. She was trespassing on his land, yet she had the gall to imply he was in the wrong.

“The duke?” the woman repeated, suddenly looking unsure of herself.

Nathaniel merely nodded and folded his arms. All he had wanted to do was inspect his orchard in peace. He had even sent his servants away to give him undisturbed time. Hearing a woman’s frightened voice on his estate had not been on his list of things to do, and neither was seeing a child in one of his trees. Watching the girl wobble on the branch and hearing the mother’s panic had ignited something within him, which had had him running at full speed toward the little girl before his mind even had the time to process his actions. Now, having saved the girl, the woman seemed ungrateful. It was more than his pride could bear.

“Well…” the woman said, her voice trailing off as she brushed a wayward curl from her brow.

She was quite beautiful—that he couldn’t deny. The combination of curly pale hair, a slender figure, and pale green eyes gave her an ethereal appearance that he found annoyingly breathtaking. Still, being pretty didn’t lessen the sting of her behavior, even if her defiance only enhanced her beauty.

“Well, it seems you were wrong,” Nathaniel finished for her. “Had you never stepped on my estate, you would not have needed a stranger to come to your daughter’s rescue.”

Nathaniel let his words sink in, mildly amused when the woman seemed to regain her composure and glared at him. It seemed the shock of discovering who he was had abated, and her feisty behavior had returned.

“I certainly would never have stepped foot here unless necessary!” she snapped. “I’m sure my daughter is remorseful,” she said, turning to her daughter and raising her eyebrows.

The little girl immediately bowed her head. “I’m sorry, Your Grace,” she said, but her eyes held interest, almost a mischievousness that she quickly masked when she looked up at her mother with a contrite expression.

“There,” the woman said impatiently. “Is that good enough, Your Grace?”

The nerve of the woman to still maintain the narrative that he was the wrong one! Nathaniel couldn’t decide if he wanted to laugh or yell.

“It seems you are unaware of the situation,” he said, keeping his voice calm and steady. “I suggest you lay your pride aside and properly assess the matter.”

“I beg your pardon?” the woman cried, her cheeks turning a deeper shade of pink.

“You—” he started.

“Yoohoo!”

The shrill and familiar voice interrupted his response and prompted him to turn. His mother was all smiles and curiosity as she approached them, her eyes darting between them with interest. She had said nothing about taking a walk in the orchard. In fact, she was supposed to be on her way to a friend’s house for cards.

“Mother,” he said, wondering what she wanted.

“I knew I heard voices,” she replied, taking his arm as she reached them. “My, what a beautiful pair you are,” she said, looking at the woman and her child. “And who might you be?”

Nathaniel was tempted to roll his eyes. It was just like his mother to ignore the very palpable tension and pretend all was well. Even a blind man could decipher that something was very wrong. However, his mother, being the over-friendly and kind woman she was, would rather ignore trouble in the name of peace.

“Greetings, Your Grace,” the woman replied, curtsying. “I am Lady Dorset, and this is my daughter, Lady Clarissa. Please, forgive us for trespassing on this land.”

Nathaniel’s eyes bulged slightly. She had readily apologized to his mother yet refused to acknowledge her wrongdoing with him.

“A pleasure to meet you,” his mother said brightly. “And please, do not concern yourself with this trespassing nonsense. You must be new to the area. Allow me to sincerely welcome you. I hope you grow to love it as much as we do.”

“It’s certainly beautiful, Your Grace,” Lady Dorset replied. “We have just moved into the cottage—Anderson Cottage.”

“Oh, it’s such a pretty and quaint cottage,” his mother said. “I so wished someone would come and give it life again. Tell me, what are you doing at the moment? I’d love to have you for tea.” She suddenly paused and covered her mouth with a laugh. “I made that sound as though I wished to eat you!”

The little girl giggled, and even Lady Dorset smiled, turning her already beautiful face into an otherworldly masterpiece. It didn’t seem fair for one woman to have that much beauty.

“I know what you meant, Your Grace,” she replied. “But we wouldn’t want to disturb you.”

“Nonsense!” his mother exclaimed. “We would love to have you. Isn’t that right, dear?” she asked him.

“Mother,” he said in a low voice, “let’s not force them.”

“Having tea with new neighbors has nothing to do with force, Son,” she said, swatting his arm lightly. “How silly of you to think that. So…” she said, returning her attention to mother and child. “Will you come?”

Nathaniel looked at the woman, willing her to say no. However, a defiant expression filled her face as she stared at him briefly before turning to his mother.

“I would love to, Your Grace,” she said, smiling brightly.

Nathaniel inwardly groaned. The woman smelled like trouble with a capital ‘T.’