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What the Duke Wants

CHAPTER ONE

Charles Evermore, Duke
of
Clairmont, glared at his solicitor, narrowing his eyes
until he could no longer see the small framed man before him. There
had to be a mistake. There was no other explanation for the words
coming from the man's mouth.

"Your grace, if you'll simply read the
documentation for yourself…" Mr. Burrows spoke with practiced
patience.

Charles stood and stalked around the desk,
ripping the papers from his grasp. Mr. Burrows leaned back, folding
his hands and watching Charles with unaffected impassivity. Not for
the first time, Charles thought the man looked like a praying
mantis, all long and lean with exceedingly large eyes and a patient
demeanor that was all to deceptive.

But he was the best solicitor available.

He had better be for what Charles paid for
his services.

"If you'll start on the second page…" Mr.
Burrows suggested.

Charles read the endless prattle of legal
terms until his eyes focused on the chilling phrase.

Wards.

Three girls, to be exact. Ranging from ages
seven to sixteen.

And, as heaven stood by laughing, he was to
be their guardian.

Charles stared at the words, willing them to
disappear. He hadn't the time, the energy, or the inclination to
take over the raising of three insufferable miniature females! He
could hardly tolerate his mistresses, and they were full grown and
low maintenance! He studied the rest of the document, searching for
any other names that might take this plight away from him.

"You're likely curious as to why you were
chosen," Mr. Burrows suggested.

"The question had crossed my mind." Charles
remarked sarcastically.

Mr. Burrows wisely ignored the duke's surly
attitude. "It was a tragedy, to be sure. The poor girls lost both
parents in a carriage accident—"

"And there were no aunts or uncle to take
them in?" Charles interrupted.

Mr. Burrows simply blinked, raising his
eyebrows slightly and waiting.

"Carry on." Charles waved his hand, somewhat
chagrined at his idiotic question. After all, if there
were
a spinster aunt or bachelor uncle, hell, any relative at all, they
wouldn't be given to him as wards.

"As I was saying…" Mr. Burrows shot Charles a
pointed gaze. "The girls were left quite without any family. Only
providence connected them with you, your grace. You see, they are
actually your mother's second cousins, God rest her soul."

"So I'm the urchins' cousin? Bloody perfect."
Charles mumbled under his breath.

"So it would seem." Mr. Burrows stood,
collecting the papers from Charles's outstretched hand. "You'll not
need to worry about a dowry or any such things for the young
ladies. Their parents left them quite a bit of wealth. However, I
would suggest you begin a search for a proper governess."

"Bloody hell, another female in my house.
Exactly what I need."

"Yes, well, that female might be your
salvation in helping you train the children into young ladies.
After all, they'll need to someday make a match."

"That's the only way I'm ever going to be rid
of them, isn't it?" Charles combed back his jet-black hair with his
hand, feeling a miserable headache beginning at the base of his
neck.

"Perhaps." Mr. Burrows nodded and turned
away, but not before Charles saw the slightest hint of a grin. "The
young ladies will arrive in a few days, I expect. If you need
anything more, you know where to reach me. Good night, your grace."
Mr. Burrows paused at the door.

"Good night, Mr. Burrows."

Charles strode over to the fire, studying the
orange and red flames. Truly, this was the worst sort of news. At
three and thirty, he wasn't necessarily old, but he was quite
accustomed and comfortable with his way of life. Oh, he knew
eventually he'd have to suffer through a woman's presence enough to
marry her and produce an heir, but he still figured he had at least
five years before that would be necessary.

And to be sure, he was waiting until it was
absolutely necessary.

A few days, a mere forty-eight hours and his
entire existence would be in upheaval. To think, only four hours
ago he was looking forward to a cozy evening with Céline, the opera
diva he had sequestered in a little townhouse not far away. Under
the present circumstances, he no longer was looking forward to
anything. Rather, he was quite content to stand before the fire and
feel sorry for himself.

Of course! He could take the girls to the
country and leave them there with a governess.

Why hadn't he thought of it before? It was a
stroke of brilliance. He needn't have his life interrupted after
all! Surely the young ladies wouldn't want him around anyhow. Why,
he'd only be in the way. A governess would be infinity more
suitable for them. He needn't interfere!

Suddenly the evening was brighter, even the
fire cast a cheerier glow about the room. All he had to do was
secure a governess. And that couldn't be hard to do. He'd simply
inquire about and interview prospective persons. Better yet, Mrs.
Pott, the housekeeper, could interview. She'd be far more capable
and wise in knowing what made a good governess.

Charles congratulated himself on his
brilliant plan and to celebrate, strode over to the liquor cabinet,
and poured himself a glass of amber-colored brandy.

"Cheers," he murmured.

Already those girls were as good as gone.

Two Days Later, Near Bath.

Mr. Burrows regarded
his
young client, impressed with the poise and grace in one
so young. Why, she couldn't be a day over eighteen. Miss Carlotta
Standhope was uncommonly pretty, it was a shame that she'd not have
a come out. The
ton
would have celebrated her golden hair
and clear green eyes, but it was her character that made her
supremely appealing, he decided.

It must have been a severe blow for her to
discover the future she'd anticipated was no longer available to
her. It was part of his business, delivery of unwelcome news.
However the young woman was taking it all in with such grace and
poise, it caused him to greatly respect the young woman. Pity
pinched his heart. Unaccustomed to any emotional response when
dealing with his clients, he fidgeted with his spectacles "I'm sure
you'd like a moment…" He stood to leave, offering her a moment to
gather herself in private.

"No, please." Her green eyes widened as she
visibly swallowed. "I need to understand the full depth of my
change in situation. Please…continue." She took a deep breath as if
fortifying herself.

"Very well, Miss Standhope." He nodded then
resumed his seat. "As I know you're aware, upon you parents passing
several years ago, the substantial inheritance they left for you
was primarily invested overseas, in the Caribbean. The interest
from that investment has been what you've lived on these past
years. I'm sorry to say that with the recent tropical cyclone, the
investment in the Caribbean was a total loss."

"Total, as in I'm penniless, or total as in
I'll still have enough food to eat and won't be turned out of my
own home?" she asked her voice cracking.

"Garden Gate is entailed, so you'll not lose
the manor or lands, but you'll also not have any funds to maintain
their upkeep."

"So, it's as good as being completely
penniless."

"Yes, I'm afraid so."

"I see." Her slight shoulders slumped as if
carrying a burden to heavy to bear.

"However, you could possibly lease the land
and manor out, not requiring you to sell. That could produce some
revenue."

"That could work. But what, then, of me? What
am I to do?" Tears welled, glistening in her eyes and, though none
fell, her green orbs took on the luminosity of glowing emeralds.
Captivated by her venerable gaze, Mr. Burrows struggled to find
some good news to give the poor young woman.

"I'm not sure, Miss Standhope. Do you have
relatives you can impose upon?"

"None that I'm aware of."

He leaned back against the chair and a
thought tickled his mind. Studying her one more, he nodded. Perhaps
he did have some promising news to offer after all.

"I see. Are you…are you perhaps willing to
consider employment?"

Carlotta stiffened at
the
idea of employment. Her father hadn't been a
high-ranking earl or marquis, but even as a baron, he had impressed
upon his daughter the place and position of the titled. It chafed
to think of working, of becoming a bluestocking, but she saw no
other options available.

She was rather fond of having food to eat and
didn't plan on starving to death.

"I'm willing—" Carlotta swallowed and drew a
breath to compose herself. "I'm willing to seek employment." She
folded her hands in her lap, clutching them tightly.

"A governess or companion position would be
quite suitable, I'd imagine."

"Governess, yes. I could do quite well in
that position. I'm well educated, you know." Carlotta's mind began
to spin with possibilities. Being a governess wouldn't be half bad.
She could do it, she was certain.

She could hear her own heartbeat, its
pounding cadence reminded her that she was, indeed, alive when she
felt like she had shriveled up and died. To think, only hours
before she had been planning her wardrobe for the season and
daydreaming about her first kiss.

None of it was to be. None. In the span of
ten minutes, her entire world had come crashing down upon her,
leaving nothing but rubble.

"If you don't mind," said Mr. Burrows as he
took off his spectacles and leaned forward slightly, his balding
head shining, "I have a client who might be interested in hiring
you. If you wish, I'll make arrangements for an interview."

Could she do it? Work? Leave behind all she
knew? Carlotta glanced about the parlor, studying the tall windows
that overlooked the small gardens. It wasn't grand, but it was
home. And if she took a position as governess, she'd be leaving it
all behind to a stranger. But what choice did she have?

"Thank you, Mr. Burrows. I'd appreciate the
opportunity."

Charles Evermore, Duke of Clairmont

Carlotta studied the
card
and swallowed a lump of fear that lodged itself in her
throat. Of course, she would be interviewing for a position in the
devil's lair. That was precisely the kind of luck she was having
recently. Not only had her trunks fallen off the carriage on her
way to London, resulting in all of her clothes being muddied and
some torn, but also, she had caught a chill. Thank heavens she'd
been able to secure some elderberry tea. But regardless, the
resulting sniffle wasn't proper governess behavior at all. It would
be a miracle for her to get this position, but as she studied the
name on the card sent from Mr. Burrows, she wondered if maybe God
was protecting her. Surely, there were other positions that didn't
involve bargaining the devil.