“ 'Pon my soul!” the captain exclaimed. “What a tragedy!” Then, remembering his duty, he said, “Mr. Kimberly, may I present to you, his grace, the Duke of Farminster. Your grace. Mr. George Spencer-Kimberly.”
The two men shook hands, the duke taking in the measure of the young man before him. Not quite his own height. Stocky. Pleasant-looking with blue eyes and brown hair. A firm handshake, the hands slightly callused. No idler this young fellow.
“Mr. Kimberly, allow me to present my condolences to you. Had I but known of your loss, I should have delayed my journey,” Valerian Hawkesworth said politely.
“Since we knew nothing of you, your grace, prior to your grandmother's letter, we could not have stopped you,” George replied, his eyes twinkling with ill-disguised humor. “Were you yourself aware of your, um, obligation to my sister?”
The duke laughed, appreciating the younger man's wit. “No, sir, I was as taken aback by the situation as I have no doubt your sister was. Am I right?”
George nodded with a grin. “There is a cart for your man and your baggage. I brought a horse for you, sir. We can talk as we ride up to the house together.”
“Agreed!” the duke responded, then he turned and spoke to his valet, instructing him as if the man had not already heard George. When he had finished he said to Captain Conway, “You will stop to board my bride and myself when you return to England as we discussed?”
“Aye, sir,” the captain replied. “ 'Twill be in two and a half weeks. If there's any delay, I get a message to you.”
The two men departed the vessel.
Unable to help himself, George said, “You don't intend remaining long on St. Timothy, do you? I think Mama will be quite distressed.”
“The
Royal George
is the finest passenger ship traveling between England and these islands, Mr. Kimberly. I do not wish Charlotte's wedding voyage to be less than comfortable. If we do not return to England on its return trip, we shall have to wait several months for it to come again. I believe at that point we shall be facing your stormy season. I would not distress your mother, but I think it best my bride and I leave as soon as we can.” The duke swung himself into the saddle, gathering the reins into his hand.
“I think,” said George as he mounted his own horse, “that I should explain to you that my stepsister is not known as Charlotte. She is known by her second name, Calandra.”
“Why?” Valerian Hawkesworth asked.
“When our mother married our stepfather, Cally and Mama's daughter were just under three years of age. Both had been christened with the same first name, Charlotte. Our parents decided that the girls would be known by their second names, Calandra and Aurora. That is why the marriage contract, at least our copy, gives the bride's name only as Charlotte,” George finished, tensing just slightly as he waited for the duke's comment.
“Indeed,” the duke said dryly. “So my bride is known as Calandra? 'Tis an elegant name. Is she an elegant girl, Mr. Kimberly?”
“My stepsister is certainly an attractive girl, and I suppose with the right gowns and hairstyles she might be elegant one day, but Cally is just an innocent island maiden. You will have to be the judge of that, your grace.”
“You will call me Valerian, and I will call you George, sir,” the duke answered him. “And what is your sister like?”
“A pretty chit,” George said. “Aurora is a law unto herself though.” He chuckled.
The horses moved up from the harbor along the dusty dirt road to the house on the hillside. Now the duke could see the building better. The open front was in reality a spacious veranda. The ground floor windows were long. All the windows belonging to the house had heavy wooden shutters on either side of them. To protect them in the fierce storms he had heard about from Captain Conway undoubtedly. On either side of the roadway the land was thick and lush with green growth such as he had never seen. Vines entwined with brightly colored flowers attracted his eyes. The trees were filled with scarlet, green, blue, and gold birds of a most exotic nature. The heat was pleasant, but he had never before known anything like it, and the winds that seemed to constantly blow were softer, sweeter, and had just a hint of dampness.
“Is your manager, and your overseer satisfactory?” the duke asked George. “How have you managed since your stepfather's death?”
“My father,” George replied, “ran St. Timothy himself. He didn't approve of those men who allowed others to handle their affairs, leaving them free to pursue a life of pleasure. I was five and a half when we first came here from Jamaica. On my sixth birthday my father took me out with him when he made his rounds. I went with him every day after that. I am nineteen now, and have been handling the plantation's books ever since I ceased my formal education at the age of sixteen. My father meant for me to eventually run St. Timothy in its entirety. With his death, however, the ownership passed to Cally, and will pass to you upon your marriage to my stepsister. If you wish to bring your own man to take over the running of the plantation, I will give him my full cooperation, Valerian. You have my word on it.”
“There is no need for a stranger to be introduced here, George,” the duke responded. “I will never live here, for my life is in England, but I agree with your father in the matter of absentee ownership of an estate. I would like you to remain here, if it pleases you, to run the plantation as your father did. When I have gone over the books, we will decide upon a fair rate of remuneration for your services. After all, you will one day want to take a wife, and will need to support her. The plantation will one day become the property of one of the children Calandra and I produce. Perhaps a second son would favor it. We will both rest easy knowing St. Timothy is in good hands. Do you think this arrangement will be satisfactory to you?”
“Aye, Valerian!” George said enthusiastically. This was really working out quite well, he thought to himself, pleased, and Mama would be delighted to know she should not be discommoded in any way. “There is one thing you should know,” George continued. “The old Meredith plantation house, which is located on the other side of the island. It came to Papa through his second wife, Emily Meredith. Papa left it to Aurora along with an income. There is no real land with it. Only the land upon which the house sits, but Papa thought she would want her own home should she marry one day. Her inheritance, and her income along with the house, make her a good choice for a respectable young man of good family. Mama is sending her to England with you and Cally.”
A husband-hunting sister-in-law? Valerian Hawkesworth frowned. He did not need or want such an encumbrance on his honeymoon voyage home. “I shall speak to your mama about that,” he said. “Of course Miss Spencer-Kimberly will be welcome at Hawkes Hill.”
They rode up the driveway to the house, where two young men hurried up to take their mounts.
“Your servants are not black?” The duke was curious.
“Our house servants are bondsmen and bondswomen. Mama prefers it that way. Few leave us when their term of servitude is up. We have slaves peopling the fields and the sugar house. I have also trained several intelligent blacks as foremen, and clerks to work with me. They are most trustworthy men. We do not mistreat our people as so many others do. My father would have freed his slaves if he could have. Since he could not afford to do so, he did the next best thing. He treated them with humanity and kindness.”
“We will speak of this later,” the duke said, brushing the dust from his breeches and coat.
“Come into the house, Valerian,” George said, leading the way.
The foyer was high-ceilinged and cool, the duke found. The woodwork was all white, as were the walls. It was very inviting. He followed George into a bright room with yellow and white striped wallpaper. The furniture was beautifully carved and fashioned mahogany, the chair and settee seats neatly caned. There were no draperies on the long windows, only tiers of mahogany shutters. The wide pine plank floors were covered with a large and beautiful blue and beige Oriental carpet, one of the finest he had ever seen. Three ladies awaited them. The elder, gowned in black silk and white lace, arose, smiling.
“Valerian, may I present my mother, Oralia Kimberly,” George said politely. “Mama, the Duke of Farminster.”
Oralia held out her hand to be kissed, and then, withdrawing it, said, “You are welcome to St. Timothy, your grace.” The hand gestured. “My daughters.”
His dark blue eyes quickly swept over the two girls. One wore a simple gown of blue-gray, and her look was almost bold. The other was gowned in white silk with pink painted rosebuds. She did not look at him, but rather blushed prettily as Oralia drew her up.
“This is your betrothed, your grace, my stepdaughter, Charlotte Calandra Kimberly,” she said. “Greet the duke, my child,” she gently pressed the girl. “He has come a long way for this moment.”
Calandra looked up, her dainty pink mouth making a tiny “O” of pleasure as she gazed upon the man who was to be her husband. He was divinely handsome! She held out her hand, saying in a soft voice, “How do you do, sir. I bid you welcome to St. Timothy's.” And she curtsied.
He took her hand in his. It was an elegant little hand. Then, slowly raising it to his lips, his eyes locking onto hers, he kissed it. “Your brother tells me that you prefer being called by your second name, Miss Kimberly. Calandra, Duchess of Farminster, has a pleasing ring to it, do you not think?” And he smiled warmly at her.
I shall swoon, Cally thought, but then Aurora pinched her, and she drew in a breath, saying in what she hoped was a detached voice, “It does when you say it, your grace. Since I have learned of our betrothal, I have not dared to even think of it. It was all such a surprise.”
“For me also,” the duke replied, “but now that I stand in your exquisite presence, I am no longer surprised, simply overwhelmed by the beauty that is to be mine.”
“Ohhh,” Cally gasped, the giggle she had been about to utter destroyed by Aurora's relentless pinching fingers.
“And may I present my daughter, Aurora, your grace,” Oralia said, taking advantage of Calandra's speechlessness to bring the other girl forward in front of the duke.
Aurora looked him straight in the eye, saying, “Sir, I echo my sister's welcome to St. Timothy.”
He kissed her hand too, replying, “I thank you, Miss Spencer-Kimberly. I confess that had I been presented with the both of you and told to choose a bride, I should be hard pressed to do so.”
“How fortunate it is, then, sir, that you do not have to choose. The choice had been made for you, is that not easier,” Aurora said.
“You are quick-spoken, Miss Spencer-Kimberly,” he replied.
“Indeed, sir, I am,” she answered, not in the least quelled. Arrogant bastard, she thought. I was right to foist him off on Cally. She will be the perfect complacent little wife for him.
“Come and sit by me, your grace,” Oralia said, gaining hold of the situation before it got out of hand. “Was your voyage a pleasant one? George, ask Hermes to bring us some refreshment. We make a lovely drink with our own rum and fruit juice,” she told the duke, smiling. Oralia patted the place beside her on the settee as she seated herself. She then nodded to Calandra to seat herself on the other side of the duke.
The young girl was trembling with excitement. Aurora bent and murmured softly into her sister's ear, “Calm yourself, Cally. He is, after all, only a man. And try not to giggle.”
Calandra nodded. She could not take her eyes from the duke's face.
He was so handsome!
She would wager a sugar crop that Aurora was sorry now for switching places with her. This man, of course, would want children, but she would deal with that eventually. She could have children. She concentrated on the positive. She was amazed that fortune had smiled on her in this manner. And for the first time in their lives, she felt genuinely sorry for Aurora. To have so carelessly given up a duke!
Hermes arrived with a silver tray, bringing with him lemonade for the two girls, and rum and fruit punch for the others. The duke remarked, surprised, that the beverage was cool.
“There is a stream that runs by the kitchen house,” Cally told him breathlessly, eager to join the conversation between her mother and the duke. “Jugs of rum and fruit juices as well as milk and cream are kept there to cool. St. Timothy is a well-run plantation.”
“So I have noticed, Miss Kimberly,” he replied. “Perhaps tomorrow you will ride out with me and show me the estate.”
Cally's pretty face fell. “I do not ride well,” she said.
“George and Aurora will show you the island,” Oralia said quickly. “Calandra must avoid the sun, for her skin is delicate, and has always been so. Not my chicks, however.”
“In England the sun is not as strong,” Valerian Hawkesworth said. “I will help you to improve your riding skills, Miss Kimberly, and we shall ride to the hunt together. Would you like that?”