It Took a While

IT TOOK A WHILE

by Brandy Moss

Copyright 2013 Brandy Moss

Smashwords Edition

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For my Mom –

who had to wait way too long to read the finished product.

Chapter 1

Nicholas Colton Christopher Ainsworth, eighth Duke of Strathmore, gritted his teeth when he spotted Lady Worthington and her daughter approaching. Why had he insisted on walking today? The day had started out lovely enough; the morning sunshine a welcome sight after the relentless rain of the past few days. After dressing and having breakfast he’d headed out to Bond Street. The air was warming up and the sky was blue, it was a wonderful day for a walk; or so he intended. He was to meet his brother at the jewelers only a few blocks away. As instructed, his coachman awaited him a few blocks back, but at that moment it may as well have been across the ocean. He had nowhere to hide.

Instead of offering an opinion on his brother’s choice of betrothal rings, he was waylaid for the third time by a matchmaking mother. There was no one to blame but himself he supposed. He wanted a little fresh air (well, as fresh as it got in the city anyway) and some exercise. He should have known better. The only place he seemed to be able to walk alone outdoors and find any measure of peace was at Strathmore Manor, his family home in the country.

Quickly schooling his features into a cordial smile, he greeted them as was expected.

Lady Worthington, he said with a brief nod in her direction and she curtsied.

It’s so nice to see you, your grace. I trust you are well?

Splendid. His tone suggested otherwise, but the woman took no notice.

I don’t believe you’ve made the acquaintance of my daughter, Meredith, your grace.

The pretty, young brunette at her side curtsied and he took her hand in greeting. It’s a pleasure.

Meredith looked away, obviously unsure what to do and clearly uncomfortable as her mother continued on about a ball taking place the next evening where she hoped he would be in attendance. The younger woman’s eyes darted to and fro as if she were looking for an escape route.

This time, the smile that tugged at Nicholas’ lips was genuine. She was quite pretty and actually seemed like she didn’t want to be there. That was a welcome change from the insipid little debutants who’d been thrown in his direction for the past three years. He was incredibly tired of hearing yes, your grace, and as you wish, your grace. Not one girl offered spirited conversation.

He finally caught Meredith’s eye again, she smiled at him and blushed a becoming shade of pink. She mouthed the words I’m sorry from slightly behind her over-enthusiastic mother.

Reaching into the folds of his jacket, he pulled out his pocket watch to check the time. There were still a few minutes before he had to meet Clayton. Miss Worthington picked up the clue instantly, stopping her mother’s chatter by placing one delicate hand on the gray-haired woman’s shoulder.

We’re terribly sorry to be keeping you, your grace. I’m sure you have important things to attend to. She dropped into a quick curtsy and pulled her mother off down the street.

Well, he thought, as he continued on his way, pretty and observant. Maybe there was hope for the female species yet. He’d met more women than he cared to and not one of them had impressed him. At least not the ones deemed suitable for marriage. Oh, there were a few opera singers, and maybe a dancer or two who had admirable conversation skills…among other things. But one gently bred lady seemed a copy of the next. Nothing but mindless chatter about the weather and the latest fashion and, of course, gossip. None of them challenged him in anything. He could tell any one of them that the sky was purple and they’d agree with him. He once told a girl who had the most astonishingly blonde hair, that she would look nice as a brunette. Two days later, the same girl showed up to a garden party with jet black hair. He still wasn’t quite sure how she’d done it.

It was common knowledge that his mother was pressuring him to marry and produce an heir. He was past thirty after all. He’d long ago accepted that people sought his attention and his favor because of his title, but in the last few years he’d become the most eligible bachelor in all of England. Hopeful mothers found every excuse to throw their daughters in his path. It was disgusting. Unfortunately, it was also expected. After all, what did a woman have to look forward to other than marriage, children, and the running of a household? It was still bloody annoying to be thought of like a piece of meat.

By the time Nicholas made it to the jewelers, he’d successfully dodged two more ladies and, more importantly, their mothers. More than a little irritated, he ducked into the little shop, barely escaping another. As he looked out the window to make sure they’d passed, he heard a rumbling laugh that could only belong to his brother.

I say, brother, you look as if you’ve got the hounds of hell on your trail.

Nicholas turned from the window to find his arrogant git of a brother grinning at him. Good to know you find my life so amusing, Clay.

That’s what you get for taking a stroll down Bond Street. Clayton shrugged. Come, he gestured to the cases filled with sparkling gems. Help me choose something for Hermione.

Nicholas shook off his earlier irritation and joined his brother. Beneath the brotherly chiding, he knew Clayton was nervous about proposing. Growing up, they’d never had a problem with the fairer sex. In fact, if Nicholas’ title didn’t lure them in, the pair of them with their dark good looks did it every time. They’d even wooed the same woman on occasion to see which of them she’d choose.

When Clayton met Miss Hermione Lancaster it brought all their games to a resounding halt. She was a remarkably good influence on his younger brother. She was pretty, smart, unlike most of the women he’d met, and she encouraged Clayton in his writing. Quite simply, they adored each other, something Nicholas found fascinating.

The institution of marriage had never appealed to him. Most married men he knew had a mistress stashed away somewhere. Although currently without, he’d had a mistress or two himself. Preferred them, actually, to the widows and matrons of the ton.

He was only a man after all and not immune to temptation. He’d bedded his share of matrons, but mostly those with husbands too old to be much fun in bed anyway. Infidelity seemed to be expected – of both sexes – as long as one practiced discretion. Marriage wasn’t something done for love, it was for money, titles, and convenience. He couldn’t name one couple aside from his brother and Hermione who were together out of love.

His duty as Duke had been so ingratiated into his upbringing that until recently he’d seen marrying and producing an heir as just another of his duties. Now though, he hoped to find some happiness in it as well.

This thing between his brother and Hermione seemed quite out of the norm to Nicholas. He’d never seen two people so obviously in love. They were his proof that love did exist in the world. One look at the two of them and he couldn’t deny it. He also couldn’t deny that he was envious of his baby brother. Not that he’d ever let him know it.

Now that he knew one could love the woman to whom he was married, he would settle for nothing less. But as his mother so kindly pointed out, he didn’t have the leisure to wait around for a woman who may not even exist. He had a duty to his title to produce an heir. For that, he needed a wife. But he wasn’t quite ready to settle down with one woman, unless she was the right woman.

According to his mother, however, the right woman only had to be of acceptable birth, have a high standing in society and an unblemished reputation. After all, not just anyone could become the next Duchess of Strathmore. Nicholas, however, was quite certain that anyone he chose to marry would, indeed become the next Duchess of Strathmore. His mother didn’t thank him for pointing this out.

Nicholas pondered his mother’s snobbery while waiting for Clayton to pay for the brilliant sapphire ring they’d selected. Cautiously, he checked out the window for more potential hazards. Staring out into the bright sunshine, he spotted Viscount Charles Emerson. He, Clayton and Charlie had grown up together and attended the same school. Much to their parents’ consternation, the three of them were always up to something and frequently in trouble. He had no idea his old friend was in town. Charles had been in France of late checking up on some investments. Smiling, Nicholas stepped aside as Charles entered the shop.

Why, Strathmore, you old dog! What are you doing here? The two shook hands.

Nicholas gestured to his brother. Just helping the runt choose a ring for his intended.

Charles looked dumbfounded at the news. Clayton’s getting married? Must be a clever girl indeed who can capture one of infamous Ainsworth brothers.

You bet. And he’s completely besotted with her, Nicholas chuckled. Who are you buying for today, Charlie boy? Some pretty little thing got you dangling on the hook as well? The disgusted look on his friend’s face made him grin.

Absolutely not! It’s Abby’s birthday. She’s seventeen this year. Thought I’d get her something pretty.

Charles always did have a soft spot for his younger sister. He’d seen the man pummel a stable boy for looking at her the wrong way. Abigail Emerson was no ordinary seventeen-year-old. An early bloomer, she could easily be mistaken for years older. Consequently, she and her over-protective brother had been fending off gentlemen callers for at least a year already. Clayton joined them just as Charles was telling of an upcoming journey to America.

America? Clayton asked, pocketing his purchase. Why on earth is your father dragging you there? Clayton believed there need not be anything outside of Europe and couldn’t fathom why someone would want to travel so far.

I’ve an uncle who has died. Seems he’s left guardianship of his youngest daughter to my father. She’s somewhat reluctant to come, so father thinks she would feel more comfortable in the company of other females during the journey. My mother and sister are in fits packing.

So why do you have to go? Nicholas asked.

I don’t, but I’m not letting Abby near those coarse Americans! Besides, my late uncle was rather gifted with the raising and breeding of horses. I could always use a good mount.

Charles purchased his gift and the three men strolled the short distance to Clayton’s carriage. Nicholas found there was safety in numbers. An ambitious mother might approach him alone if she could catch his eye, but would rarely approach a group of men. When Clay insisted on giving them a ride, Nicholas wasn’t fool enough to turn him down, fresh air and sunshine be damned.

As the three rode comfortably down the streets of London, a plan formed in Nicholas’ mind. He needed a break. Oh his mother would say it was hiding, but a man could only take so much before questioning his sanity, not to mention his self-control. He was a hairsbreadth away from telling them all what he really thought of this whole marriage mart.

For three years he’d lived with every debutante in England being paraded in front of him. A trip to America where no one knew him sounded divine. Horses were a perfect excuse. Everyone knew he had a special affinity for the animals, so no one would question him traveling halfway around the world to purchase them. No one but his mother that is, but he could handle her.

He put the idea to his companions and was met with little resistance. Clayton didn’t care what he did so long as Nicholas was back for the wedding and Charles was relieved to have someone other than his father for companionship. After all, it was a long journey and, in Charles’ opinion, one can only take so much female chatter.

Nicholas climbed the front steps of his London residence, his step lighter than it had been in a long time. America. It sounded heavenly. Charlie’s cousin lived in Virginia, so the journey would require some land travel after disembarking the ship, but the company would be pleasurable and most important, he’d be completely anonymous. What a glorious feeling that would be.

The front door opened just as he reached the top step. Feeling exceptionally lighthearted, he shot an uncharacteristic grin at Winthrop. The old man had been the Ainsworth butler since Nicholas was a boy. As young lads, he and Clayton had been in constant competition to see who could shock the unflappable man. Nothing ever worked. To Nicholas’ amusement, Winthrop did look slightly bewildered at his master’s gleeful expression.

I’ll be in my study, Nicholas informed him. Please bring in something to eat.

Certainly, your grace. He took Nicholas’ coat and hat. However, your mother and sister are in the blue salon. They requested to be advised of your arrival.

Nicholas felt his lofty mood slip slightly at this new piece of information. He wasn’t expecting to confront his mother quite so soon regarding his hastily made travel plans. She would not take the news well and although Nicholas had great confidence in his ability to persuade her around to his way of thinking, it didn’t mean he was looking forward to it. Add to the equation his sister - the recently married Lady Shipley - and he was in for double the nightmare.

Very well, deliver the food there. Inform them I’ll be along in a moment.

Winthrop nodded and left to carry out his instructions.

After scribbling a quick note to secure his passage with the Emerson’s, he sealed it and dispatched a footman to deliver it. He watched as the liveried servant headed quickly out the front door. It was done and could not be rescinded. He felt much better about that now that he had to talk to both of his female relatives.

His immediate task concluded, Nicholas made his way to the blue salon, named so because his mother had decorated it with every shade of blue she could find. The effect was quite stunning and it was her favorite room in the house. As he neared the door, the lilt of female voices drifted into the hallway.

Mother, Jack says we shouldn’t pester Nikki to marry.

Intrigued by the statement Nicholas stopped to listen, awaiting his mother’s reply.

Well dear, she began. What do you think?

Of course he’s wrong.

Marina giggled and Nicholas stifled a groan. That brother-in-law of his was a smart chap. Would that Marina only heed his advice at least once in a while.

He’s only one and thirty. A male voice joined the conversation. Hardly old enough to settle down. Leave the man alone.

Uncle Sheldon. Nicholas was relieved. No one could be counted upon to come to his defense in the face of marriage like Uncle Sheldon. Nicholas entered the room with renewed confidence. Uncle Sheldon was his ally and now he wouldn’t be outnumbered by women.

Good afternoon, mother. Leaning down he gave her an affectionate kiss on the cheek. Marina, it’s good to see you. Or should I say Lady Shipley? He shot her his most devastating grin and wiggled his eyebrows a bit.

Oh Nikki, stop it. She waved her hand at him dismissively. What’s with all the charm, big brother?

Whatever do you mean little sister? A man cannot help it if he is naturally charming. His expression was completely innocent.

Oh pish! This from his mother. He’s just teasing you, Marina. She shook her head, an indulgent smile on her face.

His sister let out a most unladylike snort, turning her attention back to Nicholas. Really, Nikki, where have you been this morning? You’re not usually up and about so early.

Nicholas made his way to where his uncle was standing by the window with a glass of whiskey already waiting for him. Clayton and I had some business to take care of, he informed them. With a slight nod of thanks to his uncle, Nicholas took the offered drink even though he didn’t usually drink so early in the day.

He knew a statement like that would not go unchallenged. Marina was correct, he usually did not leave the house before eleven, and if Clayton was involved…well, Clayton didn’t usually leave his bed until eleven, so he was sure they knew something was up. He mentally counted the seconds. Five…four…three…two…

Must have been important business indeed to rouse Clayton. His mother looked at him expectantly. She knew her youngest son well. Clayton could never be dragged out of bed early. Even as a boy they’d had to drip water onto his face to force him up for church on Sundays.

He smiled; amused that he could so easily predict their behavior.

Sorry, Mother, all I’m at liberty to say is that I was lending an opinion to Clay. And yes, he continued before she could ask, it was very important.

There was a knock at the door and a maid entered with a tray of food. Her timing couldn’t have been more perfect. He was not about to tell anyone that Clay was going to offer for Hermione before the offer was actually made and accepted. He took a sip of the amber liquid in his glass. Looking at his mother over the rim, he could see the wheels turning and he knew that she’d figure it out for herself long before Clay said a word.

Uncle Sheldon crossed the room, taking a chair opposite the women. Wonderful idea, he said and helped himself to a sandwich from the tray. I’m famished. These biscuits do nothing for a man’s appetite. He nodded towards the half-empty tray of biscuits that had accompanied the now cooling tea.

Nicholas smiled at the man who had been like a father to him all his life. He hardly remembered his real father. The former duke passed on when Nicholas was just a lad of eight. His siblings didn’t remember him at all, Clay being a baby and Marina barely a toddler. Since then, and until Nicholas had completed school, Uncle Sheldon had handled all the duties of the dukedom. He’d also taught Nicholas to ride, climb trees, and to swim. Ok, so he didn’t prove to be a very good swimming teacher, but he’d tried and although Nicholas never really caught on and nearly drown at least once, he was grateful to his uncle for stepping in and filling the void left by his father.

Joining the rest of them in the seating area, Nicholas followed suit and took a roast beef sandwich, his favorite. Where is that illustrious brother-in-law of mine today?

Marina reached for the teapot to refill her cup. He had to check on some business in Surry. Something about missing sheep on one of the estates. But he’ll be back in time for Lady Marcham’s ball at the end of the week.

Nicholas steeled himself for what was to come. He knew things would eventually turn to social gatherings and marriage. Both women were experts in directing a conversation to their liking. He’d only hoped to have had a slightly longer reprieve from the topic.

Will you be attending, Nikki? His mother asked.

There it was. No way around it now.

Actually, no. He bit into his sandwich, savoring the tangy spice of the mustard.

But Nikki, it’s her daughter’s debut, his mother argued. You can’t miss that. Lucinda is a delightful young lady. The pointed glance Marina gave their mother didn’t go unnoticed. His sister knew very well that Lucinda was far from delightful.

Of course you will be there, darling. The dowager sipped her tea. You received the invitation weeks ago I’m sure.

He received so many invitations every day it was hard to remember them all. He refused most of them. Racking his brain, he couldn’t remember this one, which probably meant he’d declined. No matter, he wasn’t going anyway.

I am already acquainted with the delightful Miss Dunbar, as you well know mother. Yes, she is a very nice girl, but I really cannot attend.

His mother’s dark eyes, which looked so much like his own, shot daggers at him, and she opened her mouth to say something. Quickly, she closed it, obviously considering her words more carefully.

Nicholas, she finally began in the same tone of voice she’d used on him as a child when she was frustrated with him. You must attend. Lady Marcham is one of my oldest friends. She sighed, placing her cup and saucer on the side table. I know it was impossibly presumptuous of me, but I have already told her that you would make an appearance.

She looked sincerely worried, and quite upset at the idea that she would look foolish in front of her friend. If he hadn’t already sent off the footman with his note, he may have given in. He could never refuse his mother anything when she looked at him like that, but he was beginning to think that she knew that as well.

I’m terribly sorry, Mother. When I said I cannot attend, I meant just that. I cannot. I will not be in London that evening.

His uncle tore his attention away from the food for a moment to voice his surprise. Really? Where are you going, my boy?

Nicholas grinned at his uncle. He knew the older gentleman would be thrilled for him. He always encouraged Nicholas to travel and see the world before settling down. No, there would be no protest from that direction.

I am going to America, he announced before grabbing another sandwich.

The dowager sputtered, at a loss for words and his sister’s mouth hung open in shock. He’d expected outrage and possibly some yelling. It was quite a welcome feeling to have rendered them speechless.

Chapter 2

The Earl of Bostwick. What did that really mean other than that Uncle Edward was a rich, important man in England? There were rich, important men in America, and they got along just fine without being the Earl of this or the Duke of that. Rose Emerson shut the book about England she’d been reading and looked out over the pond.

Wildfire, her three-year-old chocolate-colored stallion, stood on the bank, drinking lazily. A pang of despair settled over her. It was days like this she would miss the most; days full of sunshine and warm breezes; days where she and Wildfire took to the open fields at breakneck speed, the feel of the wind whipping her hair out behind her as she rode.

One of those warm breezes tossed the edge of the blanket upon which she sat and it landed across her lap, bringing her attention back to the book in her hand. She’d done a lot of reading and asking about since her move to England became inevitable. It seemed that no one she spoke with could remember England having such splendid weather as this. In fact, Mr. Morrison down at the library told her it was forever raining in England, especially London, and always cloudy. To be cooped up all the time because of bad weather seemed like a death sentence to Rose who spent every moment she could outdoors.

Surely it couldn’t rain every day though, and as long as Uncle Edward had a stable she’d be fine. She refused to think about leaving Wildfire behind. Being separated from him was too painful to contemplate. Leaning back on her hands, she tipped her head up to the sun, closing her eyes at its brilliance. Its warmth was welcome and, although many women feared they would freckle or tan, Rose didn’t mind at all. Those women were all trying to be pale and delicate and beautiful in order to catch a husband. She knew very well she’d never been considered delicate, but she wasn’t shopping for a husband anyway. She’d enjoy the sun and would be happy to get freckles.

Green eyes opened, focusing on a white fluffy cloud and she took a moment to consider its shape. Smiling, Rose decided it looked like a duck. Of course her older sister Emily would say it was a