Until You

Chapter 1

England, 1850

Nicholas Leighton, the eighth Duke of Sethe, was a wanted man; not by the authorities, however, but rather and much to his constant aggravation, by every husband-hunting, title-chasing female in the country, or so it seemed.  And now, as if that wasn’t bad enough, he had this damnable matter to deal with.  Bloody hell, he swore aloud for the second time in less than a minute, glaring at the elegant white stationery, his expression both angry and incredulous.  The brief note rested where he’d tossed it just moments ago, atop a pile of invitations, calling cards and other assorted correspondence that he’d been dispassionately sorting through for the better part of the past hour.  He loathed the never-ending routs, balls and fetes that were the mainstay of his social set and attended as few of them as possible, preferring to spend his evenings with friends, at one of his clubs or in bed with his latest paramour.

Swinging his feet from their casual position, ankles crossed atop the large mahogany desk behind which he sat, his heavy leather riding-boots hit the floor with a dull thud.  He needed a drink!  Crossing the length of his tastefully appointed study he made his way to the liquor cabinet and grabbed the crystal carafe filled with his favorite bourbon and poured himself a full glass.  Raising it to his lips he took a long swallow, savoring the familiar burning heat as the fiery liquid traveled slowly down his throat. 

Lowering the glass a moment later, he caught his reflection in one of the tall windows that flanked the cabinet.  His finely tailored riding jacket had long since been discarded, leaving him standing in his leather buckskins and a white lawn shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his austere expression reflecting the present foulness of his mood.  Unconsciously, his hand tightened around the crystal tumbler as he surveyed his appearance. Standing well over six feet tall, he had a large frame and a muscular, well-defined physique.  His hair, cut just above his shoulders, was jet black and held the slightest hint of a curl at the nape of his neck, his similarly colored brows were finely arched and thick, dark lashes shadowed his sapphire blue eyes.  In addition, his cheekbones were classically sculpted, or so he’d once been told, and his nose was straight and finely molded.  At twenty-eight, he was in his prime.  He was handsome, wealthy, titled and reputed to be the most eligible bachelor in England.  As such, and to his utter consternation, he was the prime target of the young, marriage-minded women of the English upper crust and their greedy matchmaking mothers.  It was maddening!

Scowling, he turned from the window and walked back to his desk, draining the remainder of the bourbon as he went.  Setting down the now empty glass, he picked up the discarded note from his grandmother.  Lady Ashleigh St. John, the eighteen-year-old granddaughter of the Earl of Dexter, was the subject of the note and the source of his present irritation.  Damn it all to hell! he muttered as the delicate parchment crumpled like tissue paper in his fist.

Rutledge, he called then to his ever-present butler, turning from his desk and striding toward the front hall.  Have my coach readied.  I shall be leaving for Sethe Manor within the hour.  He needed to speak with his grandmother and put a stop to this dreadful notion of hers as soon as possible.

As he entered the front hall Rutledge was immediately at his side.  Oddly, however, his usually unflappable butler appeared panic-stricken. 

Leaving?  Rutledge’s eyes were wide in his wrinkled face.  "But, Your Grace, you…you cannot leave Town this evening!"

Nicholas’ eyebrows lifted in the unconsciously arrogant gesture of a man unaccustomed to having his behavior questioned.

"Your Grace, you are dining with the royal family this evening," Rutledge reminded him in a fretful tone.

Damn, he’d forgotten and sending his regrets to the palace on such short notice was not an option, at least not a good one.  Thankfully, his staff knew his schedule as well as if not better than he did.  He sighed, struggling to hide his irritation at the unexpected delay.  Thank you, Rutledge, he said, clamping his hand fondly on the shoulder of his frazzled butler.  I had completely forgotten.  Clearly, I shall have to postpone my departure to Sethe until first thing in the morning.

Yes, of course, Your Grace, Rutledge replied, his expression as well as his shoulders visibly relaxing.  I shall see to the preparations at once.

Unfortunately, however, Nicholas wasn’t able to leave for Sethe the following morning as planned, for an unforeseen complication with one of his latest business ventures kept him in London for an additional three days.  And so, much to his frustration, dealing with the problem of Lady Ashleigh St. John had to wait.

Chapter 2

The sun was just rising in the eastern sky as Ashleigh Elizabeth St. John raced wildly across the brilliant English countryside atop her prized black stallion, blithely unaware that she had incurred the wrath of one of England’s most powerful lords. 

As was her custom she was dressed in boy’s clothing, her waist-length hair unbound and flying free in the morning breeze.  It was by far her favorite time of the day, for she enjoyed her solitary, early-morning rides more than anything in the world.  The slight chill of the crisp morning air, the fragrant smell of the tall grass, the gentle rustling of the leaves and the sight of wild birds alighting delicately on the branches of the trees all filled her with a sense of joy and contentment. 

Leaning forward in the saddle she urged Raider to an even faster pace, relishing the feel of the wind as it blew against her face, not the least bit afraid as the powerful horse surged forward, for she was an excellent rider, fearless and uninhibited and the high-spirited stallion was the perfect counterpart to her bold and oft-times daring nature. 

And so, with Raider’s thundering hooves sending large clods of dirt and grass flying out behind them as they tore across the meadow, Ashleigh smiled in sheer delight, for at that moment her mood was as light as the air that surrounded her.

Riding through the courtyard of her family home a little less than an hour later, Ashleigh steered Raider toward the stable, leaping gracefully from the saddle just a few feet from the building’s entrance before leading him to one of the hay-filled stalls housed within the large structure.  Smiling warmly at those she passed, she pretended not to notice the six pairs of adoring eyes that followed her every move or the quelling look from the stablemaster that sent the six young grooms scurrying back to their tasks a few moments later. 

After giving Raider a thorough rubdown, she fed the indulged stallion his customary handful of sugar cubes and then obligingly reached into her pocket for a second handful when he tossed his head and pawed at the ground in a blatant request for more of the tasty sweets.

When she finally left the stable, swiping the dust from her breeches and stamping the stray bits of hay from her riding boots, she realized that she was running late for breakfast.  Hurrying across the front lawn and into the huge stone manor she paid little attention to her opulent surroundings, breezing past their aged butler with an apologetic smile as she headed toward the stairs.  Her grandfather was as mild tempered as could be, but he was also a stickler for punctuality and she still needed to change her clothes before the morning meal. 

Taking the stairs two at a time, her boot clad heels thudding lightly on the wide marble steps; Ashleigh reached the second-floor landing and then hurried to her bedchamber at the end of the long hallway.  Entering the room, she wasn't surprised to see Martha waiting for her with a dress of blue and white striped silk laid out across the large four-poster bed.  For although he chose to indulge her penchant for masculine riding attire when she was within the boundaries of their private property, when she wasn’t in the saddle her grandfather expected her to dress as a proper young lady should.  She was after all, as he reminded her often, the granddaughter of an earl and the sole heir to one of the largest fortunes in England. 

You're late, young lady, Martha admonished, shaking her index finger from side to side. 

I know, Martha.  I'm sorry.  I lost track of the time, Ashleigh replied apologetically.  Hopping on one foot and then the other, she struggled to remove her tight leather riding boots.  Then, casting them aside, she quickly removed all but her chemise and drawers and reached for the dress, deliberately ignoring the stiff, whalebone corset lying next to it.

Humph, Martha snorted as she helped Ashleigh change into the modest morning gown.  If you ask me your grandfather is a fool for allowing you to go gallivanting across the countryside as you do.  What if one of the neighbors should happen to see you dressed as a lad and riding astride no less? she demanded, casting a disparaging glance toward Ashleigh's discarded attire, fawn-colored breeches and a sun-bleached, white linen shirt.

Oh, Martha, you worry too much, Ashleigh replied with a lighthearted smile, then turned her back, allowing Martha to do up the buttons along the back of the gown. 

Another humph was Martha’s only reply.

The petite, grey-haired woman had been Ashleigh's governess since she was little more than an infant and she was used to her constant scoldings.  She didn’t mind them overmuch, however, for she loved the older woman dearly.  And while it was true that she no longer needed a governess, she would always need Martha.

Once she was securely buttoned, Ashleigh quickly donned a pair of soft kid slippers and then stood still just long enough for Martha to tie a pale blue ribbon in her long windblown tresses. She looked over to the mirror above her vanity then, taking a quick, cursory glance at her reflection.  Her smooth skin and sun warmed cheeks were still slightly pinked from her ride and her auburn curls could stand a quick brushing, but as she was already late, she merely adjusted the ribbon and then turned to dash from the room, the sound of Martha’s continued mutterings following in her wake.

Arriving downstairs a few moments later, Ashleigh’s progress was halted by one of Glenbrooke’s young footmen as she made her way toward the breakfast room. 

Excuse me, m’lady.

Yes, Andrew?

The earl would like to see you in his study.

In his study?

Andrew nodded his blonde head.  Yes, my lady.

Alright.  Thank you, Andrew, she replied as she turned toward the opposite side of the house.

Making her way to her grandfather’s study, she couldn’t help feeling an odd sense of apprehension, for she could not fathom why he would wish to speak with her in the privacy of his study, and before breakfast no less.

Searle St. John was seated behind his beautifully carved teak desk as Ashleigh entered the room, and as always a mixture of love, affection and pride was evident in his expression as he noted her arrival.  She had been living with him at Glenbrooke, their family’s lavish country estate since the death of her parents ten years ago.  And sadly, it was just the two of them now, for her grandmother, Annabelle, had passed away years earlier.

Her grandfather, though still in good health, was nearing seventy and for the past several years he had been grooming her to take over the vast St. John fortune and the enormous responsibility that came with it, thus she couldn’t help wondering if this was somehow related.  Although he spoiled her outrageously, nurturing her hoydenish behavior and free spirit, he was extremely serious when it came to her future. 

Fortunately, he had realized early on that her keen intelligence would be wasted on traditional feminine pursuits and had hired the very best tutors to educate her, making certain that she was given every opportunity to broaden her intellect.  She had thrived under the unconventional tutelage and unlike the majority of her female counterparts was well versed in mathematics, history, philosophy, geography and literature and spoke several foreign languages as well.

You wished to speak with me, Grandfather? she asked, sitting down upon one of the large, overstuffed chairs positioned in front of his desk.

Indeed, there is something very important I need to discuss with you and I’m afraid that I simply cannot put it off any longer.  He paused for a moment before continuing, running his fingers through greying hair that had only slightly begun to thin.  There are some urgent business matters that I must attend to abroad and though I hope that it will not take quite so long, it is entirely possible that I may be out of the country for as long as eight to ten weeks.

Eight to ten weeks! Ashleigh couldn't contain her startled exclamation as she pushed forward to sit upon the edge of her chair.  Her grandfather rarely left the estate and when he did it was generally for brief trips to London.  He had never been gone for more than several days at a time.

Believe me, darling, I wish that I didn't have to go, but there are certain matters that I must see to personally, he informed her, regret heavy in his voice.  My solicitors and I have meetings set up with business associates in several different countries and it will take considerable time to see to them all.

She studied her grandfather’s face, trying to decipher his expression.  Fortunately, she had always been intuitive and quickly surmised the reason for his upcoming trip.  Her grandfather had vast holdings all over the world and intended to leave everything to her.  She understood.  He desired his estate to be in perfect order, for while his current health was good, he wasn’t getting any younger. And in the event of his death, he wanted to make certain that her future was secure.

Can't I go with you?

I'm sorry, Ashleigh, but no. 

As she opened her mouth to protest, he raised his hand slightly to silence her.  You know that I would love for you to accompany me, but in this instance, I think it is best that you do not.

But Grandfather…

My mind is made up, Ashleigh, he said, gently but firmly.  In fact, I have given this a great deal of thought, and as it happens the timing could not be better.  I have already arranged for you to stay with a dear friend of mine, Madeline Leighton the Dowager Duchess of Sethe, while I am away. He continued on, his tone upbeat and reassuring.  As you know, you will soon be making your entrance into Society and Madeline has graciously offered to help prepare you whilst I am abroad.

Ashleigh’s stomach dropped, for if the thought of her grandfather’s leaving wasn’t bad enough, the mention of her societal debut only added to her dismay.  For unlike most young ladies her age, it was not something she was looking forward to.

Madeline is a lovely woman, Ashleigh, and I am quite certain that you are going to enjoy your time with her, he said encouragingly.  Trust me, my dear, you could not ask for a better role model.  It is an ideal situation, truly.  

Ashleigh knew her grandfather well enough to know that once he came to a decision about something there was no point in arguing with him.   And even though she hadn’t the least desire to enter the social whirl of the English aristocracy, she knew that as his heir her grandfather expected it of her.  When will you be leaving? she asked, trying to keep the dejection from her voice.

I'm terribly sorry, darling, but I will be leaving first thing tomorrow morning.  As such, I have asked Madeline to send a carriage for you in two days.  I assume that will give you ample time to pack and prepare yourself.

So soon!  Though she tried not to show it, Ashleigh felt as if her entire world had just been turned upside down.  After the death of her parents, her grandfather and her Uncle James were the only family members she had left.  And while she adored James, her mother’s younger brother, she rarely got to see him due to his extensive travels throughout the continent, a requirement of his government service.  He wrote often though and came to see her whenever he could.  It was her grandfather, however, who provided the constant sense of security and stability in her life.  The thought of being separated from him for weeks, if not months, seemed like a lifetime, especially as she was going to be living with a complete stranger for the duration of his absence. 

Nonetheless, and despite the inner turmoil she felt, she summoned her courage, determined to put on a brave face for her grandfather’s sake.  She did not want to make his leaving any more difficult for him than it already was.  Yes, I’m sure that it will. she replied, managing a slight smile.  I will miss you dreadfully of course, so you must promise to return home as soon as possible, she added, trying to keep her tone light.

The earl stood up, came around his desk and pulled her from her chair, embracing her in a fierce hug.  That's my girl, he said, his voice full of pride.  Madeline is a wonderful woman darling.  Be assured I am leaving you in very capable hands. 

I will do my best to make you proud grandfather.

Stepping back, her grandfather kissed her lightly on her forehead.   You already have my dear.

Chapter 3

As the turning of the carriage wheels continued to close the distance to Sethe Manor, Ashleigh once again began to feel the faint stirrings of anxiety and the open leather-bound book of French poetry went unread in her lap.  Although her grandfather had assured her that the Dowager Duchess of Sethe was a warm, kindhearted woman, she was nervous to meet her all the same.  It was only to be expected, she supposed, for although she had always been friendly and outgoing by nature, it was still a bit daunting to be residing, albeit temporarily, with someone she had never met.  She could only hope that the duchess was truly as eager to have her as a guest in her home as her grandfather had promised. 

Unfortunately, she had neglected to ask her grandfather if the duke was currently in residence at his country home, for while she had never met the man personally, she was quite familiar with his name as well as his reputation.  He was a powerful, well-known figure within the aristocracy and his name was forever being mentioned in the London papers.  He had a near constant presence in the society pages and scandal sheets as well, usually in connection with one illustrious female or another.  She had to admit that the thought of meeting him was slightly unnerving.

In an effort to redirect her thoughts she tried to concentrate on the passing scenery, but soon found that she was simply too nervous to fully appreciate the lush countryside and vast wooded parkland surrounding the estate.  She wished she had been allowed to ride Raider instead of being confined to the carriage, but Martha had insisted that it would be much more ladylike to arrive in the carriage, rather than on horseback, even if she were properly garbed in a conventional riding habit and seated atop one of the dreaded sidesaddles that sat collecting dust in the stable.  Thus, Raider had been tied behind the vehicle and she had been restricted to the plush, well-sprung conveyance pulled by four matched greys, attended by two footmen and accompanied by no less than four liveried outriders.  She felt ridiculous!

A short while later, Ashleigh heard the distinct sound of gravel crunching beneath the carriage wheels and knew that they were approaching the manor house.  Looking out the window she could see the long winding drive that led to the front of the estate and as they rounded a slight bend, she caught her first glimpse of Sethe Manor.  It nearly took her breath away.  Acres upon acres of lush, artfully manicured lawns surrounded the huge stone structure that appeared almost fortress-like in design, yet it was so beautifully crafted that her eyes skipped from place to place in utter delight and fascination.  Enormous, mullioned windows reflecting the bright morning sun graced all four stories of the imposing structure and four round turrets bordered the corners of the building, giving it the appearance of an ancient castle.  She immediately thought of the castles described in the fairy tales that her mother used to read to her when she was a little girl and knew that none of them could have rivaled the vision before her.  In truth she had always considered Glenbrooke to be magnificent, but she knew that it would pale in comparison. 

While she could have gazed upon Sethe Manor’s beauty for hours, all too soon the carriage came to a stop before a set of immense double doors.  She drew a deep, steadying breath as the carriage steps were lowered and the door pulled open by one of the Sethe’s footmen.  She smiled politely and then felt herself blush as the young man’s eyes widened perceptibly, for blatant male admiration was something she had yet to grow accustomed to.  To his credit he recovered quickly, however, though a blush of embarrassment rapidly colored his own cheeks as he held out his hand to assist her from the carriage.

The butler, tall and thin, with an inscrutable expression stood regally before the entrance, diligently overseeing her arrival as she made her way up the wide stone steps.

Good morning, my lady.  Welcome to Sethe Manor, he greeted with polite formality.

Thank you, Ashleigh responded, managing a nervous smile as her insides churned in anxiety. 

Entering the front hall, she discovered that the inside of the manor, if possible, was even more beautiful than the outside.  The floor she was standing on was cut into alternating squares of black and white marble, each square polished to a brilliant luster.  She looked upward to see that the hall itself was over two stories high while the sun shining in through the diaphanous windows added another touch of grandeur.  An enormous staircase wide enough to hold five people on a single step, rose elegantly to a spacious second floor landing and beautiful, intricately carved moldings graced the doors, walls and ceilings; executed by some of the finest craftsmen in the world she was sure.  The furniture, all undoubtedly of the highest quality, seemed to be a discerning mixture of English, Italian, and French; exquisitely designed carpets covered sections of the floor and priceless art hung upon the walls.  The house was an obvious testament to the great wealth and power that had been in the Sethe family for generations.

Ashleigh!

The pleased exclamation drew her from her admiration of the great hall and as she turned toward the voice, she caught only a brief glimpse of its owner before she was enveloped in the perfumed embrace of the woman she assumed to be the Dowager Duchess of Sethe.

I am so glad that you are finally here and absolutely delighted that you will be staying with us while your grandfather is away, she declared as she released Ashleigh and took a step back.

Thank you, Your Grace.  I am honored that you would open your home to me, Ashleigh replied, a bit surprised by the woman’s warm, effusive and far from formal greeting.  Quickly though, she recovered her wits and sank into a deep curtsey.

Oh dearest, you mustn't stand on formality with me, the duchess replied with a friendly smile.  I have heard so much about you from your grandfather that I feel as if I know you already.  Please, call me Madeline.

Ashleigh felt her tension easing as she regarded the slender, white-haired lady standing before her.  Though she appeared to be around the same age as her grandfather, Madeline Leighton was still a very attractive woman, while her discerning brown eyes bespoke years of knowledge and experience and the tiny laugh lines around her mouth suggested a cheerful disposition. 

I have ordered tea to be served in the front parlor so that we may get acquainted, the duchess announced then, leading Ashleigh through a wide set of double doors set off the front hall.

As Madeline led her over to a blue chintz sofa situated directly behind an elegant silver tea service, Ashleigh noted that the room was stylishly done in varying shades of blue and grey, with several pieces of furniture placed artfully throughout.  As she seated herself, she noticed a leather-bound volume by Christopher Marlowe lying on a small table next to the sofa.  Turning inquiring eyes toward the duchess, Ashleigh asked about the book.  Do you enjoy Mr. Marlowe's works, Your Grace?

Please dear, you mustn’t stand on formality with me, I insist you call me Madeline, she said with an affectionate smile.  "And yes, I am an ardent admirer of Mr. Marlowe's writings.  Do you enjoy his plays?"

Oh yes, Your Grace, I mean Madeline, she corrected with a smile of her own.  I must admit that Shakespeare is my favorite playwright, however.

Beautiful and well-read, how wonderful.  Madeline said, with obvious pleasure.  I can see that the two of us are going to get along famously.

They chatted for several minutes, and Ashleigh quickly realized that she and the duchess had more in common than she would have imagined.  Madeline Leighton was obviously a remarkably intelligent woman with a warm and gracious personality that belied her elevated station.  She also seemed far younger than her years.  As they continued to talk her anxiety gradually began to fade and she began to feel more and more at ease in the duchess’ company.  Their conversation was unexpectedly interrupted a short while later, however, by a discreet cough.

Forgive me, Your Grace. I am sorry to interrupt, but you are needed in the kitchen.  The Sethe’s stoic butler met the duchess’ eyes, rolling his own skyward and giving a slight shake of his head.

Monsieur LeFeve?  Madeline asked, her tone conveying a mild sense of amused exasperation.

Yes, Your Grace.

Will you excuse me for a moment, my dear, Madeline said, turning back to Ashleigh.  I am afraid our chef is a bit temperamental.  She smiled ruefully, rising from her seat.  However, his culinary skills are without equal I assure you and well-worth the occasional dramatics.

As Madeline left to attend to her temperamental chef, Ashleigh rose from her own seat to wander about the beautiful room.  As she did her eyes were immediately drawn to the large portrait hanging over the marble fireplace.  In the picture two men stood on either side of the very same fireplace, each resting an elbow atop the wide stone mantel.  Both men were extremely attractive, but her eyes quickly focused on the one with coal black hair and brilliant blue eyes, seemingly the older of the two.  She stood transfixed, staring in wonder at the man in the portrait.  She’d seen good-looking men before but looking back at her from the depths of the canvas was by far the most breathtakingly handsome man she had ever seen.  She was still staring at the painting in absolute fascination when Madeline returned to the room a few minutes later.

I see that you have discovered my grandsons, Madeline remarked, coming to stand next to Ashleigh, her face beaming with pride as she gazed at the painting.  I had the portrait commissioned two years ago and I must admit it was quite a feat on my part to coerce the young devils to take the time to pose for it, she chuckled fondly.  Though they are both wonderful boys, neither of my grandsons has ever been known for possessing a great deal of patience I’m afraid.

Ashleigh was shocked by Madeline's revelation.  The duke looked nothing at all like the image she had envisioned in her mind.  "He is the current Duke of Sethe?" she asked in disbelief, gesturing to the older of the two men in the portrait.

Yes of course, dear, you seem surprised.

Well, well yes, she stammered.  "I mean, that is…I thought that he would be much older, and