Suddenly a St. Clair (The St. Clairs Book 5)
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Synopsis
Read Book 5 in the bestselling "The St. Clairs" series for free with Kindle Unlimited!
At age eighteen, Hudson St. Clair learns he's the Duke of Everton's bastard. Though never clamed by his father, the new duke, Hudson's half-brother, accepts Hudson into the family, gifting him with a university education and teaching him about the myriad of businesses controlled by the St. Clair family. His grandmother, Cor, guides Hudson in how to become a gentleman and molds his character, making him a man to be reckoned with. Upon Cor's death, her wealth and estate will go to him—provided Hudson weds within sixty days after the reading of her will.
Lady Mia Sloane is an inventor, caring for her feeble-minded father on their crumbling country estate. Upon his death, Mia is swept away to London by her pushy but loving aunt, who tries to turn Mia into a woman she's not. Attending society events at night, Mia spends her days working on her devices, especially the new steam engine she's sold to Hudson St. Clair and his family.
When Mr. St. Clair proposes a marriage of convenience in order to allow Mia to continue working on her prototypes, she leaps at the offer, despite never having desired a husband or children. The only thing troubling her is her new husband tells her she's not expected to share his bed—the very thing Mia has become most interested in doing since their experiments in kissing have awakened something within her that only Hudson St. Clair can fill.
Can two misfits rejected by society come together and grow stronger through the lasting bond of love?
Find the answer in bestselling author Alexa Aston's final book of The St. Clairs, Suddenly a St. Clair.
Each book in The St. Clairs Trilogy is a standalone story that can be enjoyed out of order.
The St. Clairs
Book #1 Devoted to the Duke
Book #2 Midnight with the Marquess
Book #3 Embracing the Earl
Book #4 Defending the Duke
Book #5 Suddenly a St. Clair
Release date: November 26, 2019
Publisher: Dragonblade Publishing, Inc.
Print pages: 252
* BingeBooks earns revenue from qualifying purchases as an Amazon Associate as well as from other retail partners.
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Suddenly a St. Clair (The St. Clairs Book 5)
Alexa Aston
PROLOGUE
London—February 1816
“I need a new whipper! Now!”
Hudson Wright answered the foreman’s call, returning from the wagon where he’d just dumped a heavy sack filled to the brim with coal. He quickly tossed the empty sack at a boy who was no older than five and hurried down the dock.
“I can be your coal whipper,” he told the burly man in charge as three men carried an injured whipper from the docks. The man groaned loudly as he passed Hudson.
He didn’t know how the worker had been injured. Only that it created a vacancy that he wanted. Hudson worked as a coal backer, a porter who carried loads of coal on his back to waiting wagons, dumping his load and returning for a new one, over and over, for fourteen hours a day. At eighteen, he was young and strong—but his dreams went far beyond the backbreaking work of transporting coal from the dock to a delivery wagon. As a whipper, he would unload pieces of coal from the arriving ships, placing them in a basket attached to a simple form of crane. It would save his back from the burdensome loads carried long distances since the wagons were parked a good distance from the docks.
Being a crane operator would have been better but, at this point, he’d do anything to save his back, which remained aching and sore since it never got proper rest. After he left the docks, he went to his second job as a waterman, working at a cab stand to water horses. He arrived home shortly before midnight each night, falling into bed for a few hours sleep before he repeated the same day, over and over.
Only on Sundays did he have time to himself after he worked at the cab stand for eight hours since the coal wagons didn’t run on Sundays. Every precious moment left in the day was devoted to studying for the upcoming university exams. His hopes of winning a scholarship and changing his life was the only thing helping him to hang on to his sanity. If he failed to score high enough marks to gain the scholarship, he’d be lost. He didn’t want to disappoint himself—but he especially didn’t want to disappoint Laurel. Not after all the sacrifices she’d made.
“Wright? Is that you?”
Hudson couldn’t blame the foreman for not recognizing him. As usual, he was covered in coal dust, which obscured his face. He thought the day would never come when he would get the scent of the dust out of his nose and have clean fingernails, the sign of a gentleman. He pushed aside that thought. Survival was key now. Laurel had pressed their last apple on him this morning. They’d spent every farthing they had to bury Mama and now his sister couldn’t find work, thanks to being blackballed by Julius Farmon, who wanted to make Laurel his mistress.
“It’s me,” he assured the man in charge. “I’ll be your new whipper.”
Whippers made two sixpence more a week. He and Laurel needed that sixpence.
“Go on then,” the foreman barked.
Hudson hurried to the nearest crane and shouted up to the operator, “I’m your new man.”
Immediately, he got to work, scooping up coal with a shovel and dumping it into the basket. The operator would then lift the basket and swing it a good distance, lowering it and releasing a lever that opened the basket’s bottom. From there, the coal backers would stuff it into their sacks.
He enjoyed the slight break he received each time the basket was put into motion. He might have to bend to use his shovel to load the coal but now he stood upright and breathed deeply. Backers never had a moment’s respite.
A rhythm developed between him and the crane operator. At one point, the passing supervisor grunted, “Good work,” which was the first compliment Hudson had received since he’d been working the docks.
He’d labored a good six hours in this capacity when the foreman tapped his shoulder. Hudson scooped the last bit onto his shovel and dumped the coal into the basket, giving the operator a signal that it was full.
“Yes, sir?” he asked, hoping he wasn’t being pushed out in favor of someone else.
“You’re to go with that man.” The foreman pointed to a bespectacled gentleman. A true gentleman, one dressed in a beautiful greatcoat of black. Beneath it, Hudson could see a fine coat of blue and dark trousers.
“What for?” Hudson asked suspiciously.
“Because I said so,” growled the foreman.
He set down the shovel and another man quickly picked it up. Disappointment filled him. He’d already been replaced and hadn’t a clue why. He doubted he’d receive the extra pay he’d earned during the time he’d labored in a new capacity. His stomach growled noisily, reminding him that he hadn’t a clue when he would eat again. Guilt filled him, knowing Laurel had already gone hungry a day or two, giving what little they had to him because of the physical work he did.
Warily, he approached the stranger and said, “I was sent to speak to you.”
“You’re Hudson Wright?” the man asked.
“Yes.”
“Very good, Mr. Wright. If you’ll come with me.” The man turned and walked a few steps.
“Wait!” Hudson called. “Who are you? Where are we going?”
The man smiled wryly. “You’ll know soon enough. Come along, Mr. Wright.”
As he followed the tall, thin man, Hudson couldn’t remember ever being addressed so respectfully. At school and work, he was always called Wright. Mama and Laurel were the only ones to call him Hudson. To be Mr. Wright was almost beyond his comprehension.
The man stopped in front of a grand carriage, gleaming black as midnight. Four horses, all white, stood attached to it. A footman opened the vehicle’s door and the man climbed in.
He sat and then leaned to the door’s opening. “We haven’t all day, Mr. Wright.”
Bewildered, Hudson climbed in and stood, hunched over. “I can’t sit in here. I’m filthy.”
Reaching into the corner, the man picked up a blanket. He spread it across the plush velvet seat and returned to the opposite bench.
Reluctantly, Hudson sat. The door closed. The carriage took off.
He shook his head. “I don’t understand.”
The man, who looked to be in his early to mid-thirties, said, “I am Matthew Proctor. That’s really all I’m at liberty to say for the moment, Mr. Wright. Be patient. I know it must be difficult but everything will be explained once we arrive.” He smiled kindly.
Hudson couldn’t remember the last time anyone had smiled at him.
A terrible thought struck Hudson. “Laurel? Is she—”
“Miss Wright is fine,” Proctor assured him. “You will see her shortly. Please, Mr. Wright. You need to trust me. Be patient. All will be fine.”
At least his twin was all right. But who could have summoned them both? And why? He wanted to grab Proctor and shake him until the information spilled from his lips but something in his demeanor made Hudson leery of doing so. He remained silent the rest of the ride, gazing out across London at the various neighborhoods, many which he had never seen. They finally arrived in an area where immaculate white townhouses sat on both sides of the street. The carriage slowed and came to a stop.
“We’re here,” Proctor announced.
Hudson only wished he knew where here was.
The footman opened the door again. Hudson couldn’t imagine being employed where all you did was ride on the back of a carriage and open and close a door, all while wearing livery that looked better than anything Hudson had ever worn. Wherever they were going—and whose carriage he’d been brought in—was someone of immense wealth.
Fear closed about his heart again as he thought of Julius Farmon and the threats he’d made against Hudson and Laurel. This couldn’t be Farmon’s residence, though. Although the man owned numerous saloons and brothels, he couldn’t imagine him living in a palace as grand as the residence before them.
He exited the vehicle and Matthew Proctor followed closely behind him. The carriage then pulled away. Proctor led him into the house.
Into a different world.
The large entryway had gleaming marble floors and art hanging on the walls. Scattered pieces of furniture made of rich wood were finer than anything he’d ever seen. The townhouse spoke of wealth and elegance, two things foreign to his experience.
A servant appeared, his dignified air causing Hudson to shrink.
“I am Barton, Mr. Wright. If you’ll follow me.”
His eyes cut to Proctor. “Go ahead. You’re expected.” With that, the man turned and walked down a hallway, disappearing from sight.
They ascended a wide staircase to the first floor and walked down a long corridor. Hudson’s gut tightened. He had no idea why he’d been summoned to this palatial place. He’d already been gone from work too long and worried that it had cost him his job. His physical appearance put him at a disadvantage, his clothes filthy and worn. The fear morphed into anger by the time they arrived at a door. Anger was a feeling he knew how to deal with. He stoked it so he didn’t appear as a scared, lost child. The butler opened the door to a room that seemed to go as far as the eye could see. Seated at the far end was a large group of people.
Including Laurel.
Pushing the servant aside, Hudson charged into the room. “What in the bloody hell is going on?” he demanded.
His twin sprang to her feet and hurried the length of the room. Hudson didn’t look at her. Instead, his focus was on the three people who had followed her. Two men and a young woman, all favoring one another so closely that he knew they were related. A numbness descended upon him. His jaw dropped in astonishment. They all had hair black as midnight and dark brows. But what stood out were their eyes. The trio had the same emerald eyes that he and Laurel possessed. Neither twin had ever seen anyone with eyes similar to theirs.
“They look like us, Laurel. They all have our eyes. It’s . . . like looking in a mirror.”
The oldest of the three took a few steps forward. He thrust out a hand.
“That’s because we’re all St. Clairs, Hudson.” With a broad smile, he added, “Welcome to the family.”
He stiffened. “I already have a family. Laurel is my family. I don’t know what kind of trick you’re playing, but we’re not falling for it.” He glanced to his sister. “Come, Laurel. We’re leaving.”
“We are not leaving, Hudson,” she said firmly.
He knew that tone. Once Laurel dug in her heels, no one could change her mind. She was the brightest person he knew—and also the most stubborn.
“I know this is overwhelming, Hudson.” She looked at the man who’d offered his hand, which Hudson had refused to shake. “May we speak in private, Jeremy?”
“Of course, Laurel.” He nodded to the man and woman by his side and the three moved away to the far end of the room, where the rest of the group studied Hudson and Laurel with interest.
“I need to tell you—”
“Not here,” he spit out. “Move into the corridor.” He glanced at the other side of the room. “I don’t want any of them listening to what we say.”
She sighed. “Very well.”
They stepped into the hallway. Thankfully, it was deserted of servants.
“Who are these people, Laurel? Why are we here?”
“They are our brothers and sister, Hudson. They—and we—are St. Clairs.”
“What?” A long string of curses erupted from him. He shook his head. “I don’t understand.”
“Then quit talking and listen,” she said, giving him that no-nonsense look of hers. “I can explain it if you’ll stop behaving like an idiot.”
He shoved his temper deep inside, locking it away. “I love you, Laurel. I trust you. Tell me,” he urged.
A part of Hudson wanted to know. The other half was afraid of what she would reveal.
“You know Mama never talked about our father. She finally did. Just before she died.”
He saw her eyes mist with tears. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because there wasn’t much to tell,” Laurel admitted. “She told me I looked like him. That she’d read in the newspaper he’d died.” She paused, her mouth trembling. “She said he hurt her, Hudson. Raped her.”
“No wonder she never wanted to talk about him.” Anguish filled him.
“I found a note from him that she had hidden under the mattress.” She swallowed. “Our father was the Duke of Everton.”
Shock filled him. “We’re by-blows of a bloody duke?”
Laurel nodded. “I came to this house today to blackmail the current duke. Our half-brother.”
“You what?” he shouted.
She winced. “Hudson, you know what our situation is. We haven’t two farthings to rub together between us. Farmon is determined to make me his mistress and send you halfway around the world, branded a criminal.” She took his hand. “A duke has scads of money. I only wanted a little. Enough to help us escape from London and go where Farmon couldn’t find us. You could sit for the university exam and become a student. I could find a job elsewhere and keep house for us, the threat of Farmon gone.”
“How did this duke take to being squeezed for money?”
Laurel’s face changed, wonder filling it. “That’s the remarkable thing. I was going to threaten to expose us as bastards to Polite Society, thinking a high and mighty ton family wouldn’t want this kind of scandal to be made known.” She shook her head. “I never had the chance to blackmail him. Jeremy knew instantly who I was. So did Luke. And Rachel. Instead of shunning me, they embraced me, Hudson. They immediately offered for me to come live here.”
“Live here?”
He couldn’t comprehend what she was saying. His mind whirled, learning first how he and Laurel had been the products of rape. He’d always assumed their father had already been married or left when he found out Dinah was pregnant. Never in his wildest dreams had he thought she’d been brutalized, much less by a peer of the realm.
“Do you hear me, Hudson? The St. Clairs wanted me. Us, actually. I told them I had a twin and they are thrilled. They want to get to know us.”
He jerked his hand from hers. “You’re mad, Laurel. No high and mighty duke and his family would ever want us.”
“We do,” said a quiet voice behind Hudson.
He wheeled and saw the man he now knew as the Duke of Everton standing there. Beside him were his brother and sister. The three looked so much alike, it was uncanny. And the fact they resembled Laurel—and him—was eerie.
“We are St. Clairs,” the duke said. “We always stand together. Our father was a blackguard of the worst kind. He drank and gambled and wenched his life away. He was the worst man I ever knew. Especially since he never claimed responsibility for you.”
Laurel’s hand found Hudson’s and clasped it.
“I know we are strangers to you both,” the duke continued. “We—Rachel, Luke, and I—want to remedy that. You are St. Clairs as much as we are. The three of us all had different mothers but we don’t feel as if we are half-brothers or half-sisters. Together, we are whole and better for it.”
The other brother stepped forward. “We want you as a part of our family, Hudson. Just like a marriage, for better or worse. We have a lot of years to catch up on but you are both St. Clairs.” He grinned. “You are our relatives for life, whether you like it or not.”
The sister smiled. “Jeremy and Luke are right. We look forward to getting to know you. You are as much a St. Clair as the rest of us.”
With that, she flung herself at Hudson, wrapping her arms tightly about him.
“You . . . I mean . . . my lady . . . you’re getting filthy,” he sputtered.
Rachel laughed. “You need to be put in a tub of hot water and scrubbed within an inch of your life, Hudson. I can’t wait to see what you look like without all that coal smudging your face.”
She released him, her pale gown now stained dark, and both Jeremy and Luke wrapped their arms about him.
“We’re never letting go, Hudson,” Luke promised. “You’ve got a large, loving family now. You’re not getting rid of us. You need to come and meet our spouses. And Cor, of course.”
“Cor?” he asked, still overwhelmed by these three and the idea he and Laurel were wanted.
“She’s our grandmother,” Jeremy said. “With all our mothers dying in childbirth, she raised the three of us. Cor is the wisest woman you will ever meet. Come on.”
Hudson saw all three of the St. Clairs wearing coal dust on their fine clothes, which were now ruined beyond repair. Their eyes were bright and they were laughing and smiling, actually happy to have discovered lost siblings who were bastards.
He looked at Laurel. In her eyes, he saw how desperately she wanted to be a part of something beyond the two of them. She had always been the one to make the sacrifices in their family. She left school early so he could remain, even holding down two jobs to make the rent. She completed the sewing jobs Mama had taken when her eyes failed, working until the wee hours of each morning. Even now, she went without food to ensure he didn’t starve.
If joining this family would ease Laurel’s burdens, Hudson was all for it.
“I’m game if you are,” he told his twin, his only friend, the person he loved above all others.
“Thank you,” she whispered fervently. “You won’t regret it. I promise.”
The duke turned, waiting for a decision. Hudson nodded and Jeremy smiled with satisfaction.
“Cor is waiting,” Jeremy said. Leaning in, he added, “She will be your biggest supporter. I guarantee it.”
With that, the five St. Clair siblings returned to the drawing room. Hudson didn’t know that’s what it was called at the time.
He only knew life as he’d known it would be changed forever.
CHAPTER 1
Morris Park, Surrey—December 1825
Mia Sloane blinked several times, wondering where she’d fallen asleep this time. She looked at her surroundings and discovered she was in the cluttered drawing room. An open journal rested in her lap. Nelson, her cat, lay between her legs. The room was filled with sunshine. From the angle of the rays, she believed it was mid-morning.
Sleepily, she rubbed her eyes. She had fallen asleep trying to work out a mathematical formula, hoping it would help with her latest invention. Scattered pages lay on the floor next to the settee. All failures. Since she had finally gotten some rest, she hoped she could figure out what had stumped her.
Nelson saw she was awake and stood, stretching lazily. He walked up the length of her, standing on her chest. She stroked his face with her knuckles and he began to purr noisily.
“Good morning, my sweet friend,” she said, kissing him atop his head and continuing to pet him. “We need to get up. I’m sure you’re hungry.”
She heard the door at the far end of the drawing room open. Before she sat up, she heard a voice from her past.
“You simply must find them. I haven’t come all this way not to be seen.”
It was Aunt Fanny.
Mia lay perfectly still, not wanting to reveal she was in the room. The last time she had seen her aunt had to be a good decade or more. Lord Trentham, Fanny’s husband, worked for England’s diplomatic corps. After the war with Bonaparte finally ended, Trentham had been assigned to a post somewhere in Europe. Mia couldn’t remember where at the moment. She’d received a few letters from Aunt Fanny, as had her father, but Mia was always so busy that she hadn’t bothered to reply after the first few arrived. She did remember Lord Trentham had moved throughout Europe but not being interested, she did what her father usually did—ignored or forgot what was important.
“Bring tea, Aunt Fanny commanded. “I’m parched. I expect Lord Morrison and Lady Mia to arrive when the tea does. If not sooner. Now, go!”
“Yes, my lady,” their butler said.
She wondered if today would be a good day or a bad one for Papa. If good, he might have seen Aunt Fanny arrive and already be hiding from her. If bad, things could turn ugly. On those days, Papa often didn’t know who some people were or what he was doing. That’s why Mia had stepped in and had begun to handle most of the experiments. She’d worked with her father for years and knew about every invention and what stage it was in. Eventually, she’d taken over, completing inventions and filing for the patents in his name.
Aunt Fanny’s arrival might ruin everything.
“What on earth do they do here?” her aunt asked aloud.
Mia knew what the drawing room must look like to outsiders. It was filled with tables containing various projects. The entire house was the same. Since they never entertained, numerous inventions had eventually taken over room after room. Even half the stables had been converted to a workshop, where Mia now worked on a new type of steam engine. She had perfected it and even had an interested buyer coming after Christmas to inspect it. If this Mr. St. Clair she’d corresponded with purchased the design and device, it would mean she could pay the few servants remaining what was owed and have money left over to pay the bills owed to various shopkeepers in the local village. She only wished she could earn enough to restore the house. The roof leaked. The staircase was beginning to rot. New paint and carpets were sorely needed. She could only imagine what Aunt Fanny was thinking.
She decided being a coward didn’t suit her. Their servants would find Papa and bring him to the drawing room. It wouldn’t be fair for him to face Aunt Fanny’s wrath alone. Mia might even be able to calm her aunt so that by the time Papa arrived, all would be well.
Lifting Nelson, she placed him on the ground and then gave a loud sigh, stretching her arms high and sitting up. She deliberately rubbed her eyes and as she stood, she saw a horrified Aunt Fanny spy Mia and gasp.
“What are you wearing?” her aunt demanded shrilly.
Mia crossed the room, Nelson trailing after her. “Why, hello, Aunt Fanny. It’s so good to see you. I must have fallen asleep on the settee.”
She went to kiss her aunt’s cheek but Fanny threw out an arm. She eyed Mia from head to toe.
“This is disgraceful. It’s far worse than I ever could have imagined. You’re in trousers, Mia. Stained ones at that. A rumpled shirt. Your hair a mess. Good God! What has been going on here?”
She shrugged. “Work, as usual.”
“Work?” Her aunt sniffed. “The kind of work you should be doing is planning menus and doing needlepoint. Ladylike pursuits. Do you even bother with that?”
“Cook is perfectly happy to set the menus each week,” Mia replied. “I don’t know anything about needlepoint, though. Or any type of sewing. I suppose I could learn but I haven’t the time.”
Her aunt touched her forehead as if a strong pain had struck her. “My sister is turning over in her grave.” She shook her head. “When is the last time you wore a dress?”
Mia thought. “I’m not sure. It’s much easier to work dressed this way.”
“What about going to church each week?”
“Papa has never been one for organized religion,” she admitted. “We don’t attend services.”
Another gasp. Oh, this wasn’t going well at all.
“What about when you see your friends? Do you dress like a man then?”
The question startled her. “I . . . don’t really see friends, Aunt.”
“Why not?”
She clasped her hands. “I don’t have any, you see. I don’t leave Morris Park. Papa doesn’t entertain. He—we—are much too busy working on his inventions, you see. I don’t have time for frivolous activities.”
Fury filled Aunt Fanny’s face. “Oh, this is so much worse than I could have imagined. I told Trentham. He won’t believe this. Mia, you need—”
“Fanny? Is that you?”
Thank goodness Papa had arrived. Mia noted he was dressed as a proper country gentleman and she would have to thank his valet for that. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen him in a coat and cravat. At least he appeared to be aware of his surroundings today. And he had called her aunt by name.
“Morrison, you are a disgrace,” Aunt Fanny proclaimed. “You have been derelict in your duties. I knew I should have taken Mia with us when Trentham was assigned abroad. I have let my sister down. You, sir, have let her down. Mia, as well.”
Papa frowned. She only hoped her aunt wasn’t confusing him, especially mentioning Mama. Sometimes, her father still believed his wife was alive. It was easier to mollify him by telling him she was taking a nap or working in the garden and that he could see her later.
“Why do you say that?” he asked. “I spend a majority of every day with my daughter. Her mother would be proud. Mia can do complicated formulas in her head. She does outstanding work with machines. She is a veritable wizard when it comes to chemical . . .”
Then his brows knit together and his voice trailed off. Mia knew they would be losing him.
“What good is that to a young woman?” her aunt demanded. “Mia should have wed years ago. As it is, she is on the shelf.”
“On the shelf?” her father repeated, his tone uncertain.
“Yes, Morrison. On the shelf.” Her aunt frowned. “Do you know what that even means?”
“No,” he admitted.
“It means she is old, Morrison. A spinster who may not be able to ever find a husband.”
“No, she isn’t,” her father insisted. “She’s . . . she’s . . .” His voice faded.
Dread filled Mia.
Aunt Fanny asked, “Do you even know how old your daughter is, Morrison?”
“She’s . . . she’s . . . ten and six?” he guessed.
She went and slipped her arm through his. “No, Papa. I am four and twenty. In three weeks, when the first day of the new year comes, I will turn five and twenty.”
A baffled expression filled his face. “You are an adult?”
“Yes, Papa. I have been for quite some time.”
“This is ridiculous. A man who doesn’t even know hold old his only child is. You have sadly neglected Mia, Morrison. You . . .” Her aunt stopped mid-sentence.
Mia saw why. Papa now wandered about the room, fingering things, looking bewildered. She knew his thoughts jumbled and it would be hard for him to carry on a conversation for several hours.
“What’s wrong with him, Mia?” Aunt Fanny asked quietly.
“Papa has . . . spells,” she replied. “He functions normally and then he gets confused.”
“How long has this been going on?”
“For a while,” she admitted, not wanting her aunt to know it had gone on for over five years and worsened over the last three.
“You can’t remain here.”
“Where would we go?” she countered.
“There’s no we to this, Mia,” her aunt said firmly. “Morrison is unwell.”
“Then I am the one who will tend to him. There’s no one else.”
“We’ll find someone,” Aunt Fanny insisted. “You will need to see to closing up the house. Relieving the servants of their positions. You’ll come to London for the Season.”
“The Season?” she asked. “What is that?”
“Oh, dear God in His heaven. The Season is when Polite Society gathers for social events. There are balls. Parties. Musicales. Theater and opera.” Her aunt gazed at her steadily. “It’s also where you can find a husband.”
“I’ve never thought of marrying, Aunt. Besides, Papa needs me.”
“Do you know who his solicitor is?”
Puzzled, Mia said, “Yes.”
“We need to contact him at once and see that a dowry has been provided for you.” Fanny stopped and sighed. “A dowry is given to your husband upon your wedding. It’s something that will help attract a man to you.”
Mia chuckled. “There can’t be a dowry if there’s no money, Aunt. I handle matters for the estate and have for years. We live very frugally.”
“There’s no money at all?”
“No, Aunt.”
Fanny thought. “What about unentailed properties?”
“Only what Mama brought into the marriage,” she replied. “It’s a small manor house and has been empty for years. I’ve considered selling it to keep Morris Park and Papa’s experiments going.”
In truth, she had already decided to do so in the coming year, knowing the day would arrive when she and George, Papa’s valet, wouldn’t be able to manage him and her father might need to go away for care, or at least have someone here who could help with him.
“It will be sold and used for your dowry,” her aunt proclaimed. She glanced at her brother-in-law. “He’s in a bad way, Mia. Surely, you can see that.”
Mia knew it. She just hadn’t wanted to admit it. There had been days when Papa hadn’t known who she was. She worried about him hurting himself, especially when he wandered off. Since there’d been no family to turn to, she’d tried to handle everything herself.
“Does Morrison’s nephew know?”
The question startled her. “No. I would never have shared this with Cousin Horatio.”
Her cousin had only visited a handful of times over the years and not once since Mama had died. Since she was an only child and a girl, Horatio would inherit the viscountcy and Morris Park.
“I heard he wed last year.”
Mia nodded. “He did. We received an invitation but the ceremony took place in London. I couldn’t take Papa there. He’s better when he’s around familiar things.” She gestured to herself. “Besides, what would I have worn to a society wedding?”
Aunt Fanny came and wrapped Mia in an embrace. “Oh, my sweet girl. This must have been very hard on you.”
“Papa cared for me when Mama died. It was only natural I should take care of him when he became ill.”
Her aunt stroked her hair. “I, too, should have cared better for you when my sister passed. I blame myself for this situation. If only we hadn’t gone abroad. Oh, well. What’s done is done.” She kissed Mia’s cheek. “Give me the name of your father’s solicitor. I will see that Trentham starts things in motion. We’ll bring Morrison to London. Have him seen by the best doctors. Find someone to come in and care for him. You’ll both live with us. We have a lot of work to do.”
For the first time since her mother’s death, Mia began to cry. She’d been overwhelmed for so long, trying to care for the estate and her father at the same time. Trying to keep his few customers happy and continue creating the inventions he had started years ago and now was too feeble-minded to attend to. She’d had no one to lean on or confide in.
Aunt Fanny pulled out a handkerchief and wiped away Mia’s tears. “Don’t worry, love. You’ll be taken care of. I’ll set everything in motion. Trentham and I will return at the first of the year and see you and Morrison moved to our London home.” She brightened. “Once you’re there, we’ll prepare you for the upcoming Season. You must learn how to dress. Hold a conversation. Dance. It will be difficult and very different from what you’re used to. In the long run, we’ll land you a husband. You will have the life your mother meant for you to live.”
Mia started to say she didn’t want a husband but knew correcting Aunt Fanny wouldn’t go over well. A husband and children were the last things Mia wanted.
Especially since she planned to continue on her chosen path of being an inventor.
CHAPTER 2
Eversleigh—Christmas Eve, 1825
Hudson St. Clair tossed the blanket aside and climbed from the carriage. Footmen scurried from the house to collect his luggage.
“Be sure to get the boxes inside the vehicle,” he instructed. “Those are to go to His Grace’s study.”
He strode toward the house, the afternoon’s dark skies threatening to dump rain at any moment. Barton greeted him at the door.
“Mr. St. Clair, it’s a pleasure to see you. The family is gathered in the drawing room.”
“Thank you, Barton. My usual room?”
“Yes, sir. Shall I unpack for you?”
Hudson was capable of taking clothes out of a valise and placing them in a wardrobe but he had always been aware of the role of servants ever since he’d learned he was a St. Clair.
“If you don’t mind, Barton, I would appreciate it. Are you sure you don’t want to leave His Grace’s service and become my valet?”
The butler chuckled. “Your kind offer is duly noted, Mr. St. Clair. I will consider it.”
It was a game they played, Hudson trying to steal Jeremy’s longtime retainer, with Barton always pretending he would change employers. Barton never would have left the Duke of Everton’s employ. None of the Everton servants would have. Jeremy and Catherine were thoughtful and kind to all, including their servants. Just as they’d been kind to him over the years.
He went to the familiar drawing room where he’d spent many an hour. Eversleigh was like a home to him, as was Linwood, where Laurel and Anthony resided most of the year with their children. Hudson had rooms of his own at both estates and moved freely between them, though he spent a majority of his year in London when not traveling. After university, he’d undergone a different kind of tutoring under Jeremy’s guidance and had first learned about estate management, spending time at each of the family’s country residences. He learned about farming and breeding, how to keep tenants happy, and how to maximize crop potential.
Next, Jeremy had moved him into shipping and Hudson had spent time in the London offices, learning everything about that business. Afterward, he learned about construction projects from large to small, working with Rachel on gardens and working his way up to renovating and finally building houses and places of business. Nowadays, he worked hand in hand with Matthew Proctor, helping to manage all the St. Clair business, from transportation to land purchases to coal mines. All in all, he led a satisfying life, one much different from his time working on the London docks and streets.
Entering the drawing room, he saw a gaggle of relatives present. His eyes went first to his sister. Laurel had always been a beauty but she’d blossomed ever since having children. She was deep in conversation with Caroline, his brother Luke’s wife. Hudson sneaked up behind his twin and wrapped his arms about her.
“Hudson!” Laurel cried, spinning and kissing his cheeks. “You’re as cold as ice.”
“It’s blustery out there,” he said. “Rain threatens at any moment. I was glad I arrived when I did. Hello to all.”
He made the rounds, greeting his hosts, Jeremy and Catherine, along with Catherine’s sister, Leah, and her husband, Alex. Rachel squeezed him tightly, and her husband, Evan, offered his hand. Hudson had thought for a time he might like to go into the military and become an officer as Evan had been before his marriage. While it hadn’t seemed as if England would be at war any time soon when Hudson had graduated from university, Jeremy had discouraged him from pursuing that path. Now that war had broken out on Africa’s Gold Coast and in Burma, he was glad he’d heeded Jeremy’s advice and gone into business instead.
“Where are Anthony and Luke?” he asked. “Wait. Don’t tell me. They’re in the nursery.”
Caroline laughed. “Luke is the biggest child of them all. You know that, Hudson. Anthony is his willing cohort. The only good thing is that they’ve been in the nursery most of the afternoon and will have worn the children out.”
“I’ll go see all of them after tea,” he promised. Looking around, he frowned. “Where is Cor?”
Cor was the grand dame of the St. Clair family and Dowager Duchess of Everton. Of all his St. Clair relatives, he was closest to his grandmother. She had spent many hours helping to shape him and his outlook on the world. Cor was the smartest person, man or woman, that Hudson had ever met. She could speak knowledgeably on any topic and had a biting wit. He’d learned which fork to use and all of his ton manners from her. She’d taken a raw, almost uncivilized boy of eighteen and turned him into a polished man. Though not quite a gentleman. He’d always be known as a by-blow of Everton’s. Hudson might dress and speak as cultured as any man of the ton but he would never be accepted. Laurel had escaped being branded in such a manner by becoming Anthony’s duchess. Even then, Hudson supposed a few gossips talked behind her back.
“Cor is resting,” Catherine told him. “She rarely takes tea with us anymore, preferring to have it in her room.”
“Perhaps I should go and be with her,” he said.
“No,” Laurel said firmly. “I haven’t seen you in ages. You’ll visit with all of us and then you can go see Cor.”
He laughed and said to the others, “Simply because Laurel came out first and is the elder by fifteen minutes, she thinks she can order me about.”
“I side with Laurel on this,” Rachel said, her eyes full of mischief. “We sisters stick together, you know.”
Anthony and Luke returned at that moment and Hudson went to greet them. The tea carts followed and they spent a pleasant hour discussing family, business, and the women’s charity efforts. Laurel, in particular, was heavily involved in an orphanage located in the area where she and Hudson had grown up. She shared several stories about her recent visits and Anthony joined in, describing some of his efforts to remake the neighborhood.
Hudson couldn’t help but think how different this afternoon was from the Christmases he and his twin had spent in poverty. It had taken his mother’s death and Laurel discovering their link to the Duke of Everton before this side of the family had been revealed to them. Overnight, their lives changed. Laurel had a Season and wed Anthony. Jeremy had paid for Hudson’s university education and employed him beyond that. He had the support of this large, loving family and had become close friends with his brothers and brothers-in-law.
He still wondered sometimes, though, about taking on the St. Clair name as a bastard son to the former duke. Luke had eagerly pressed him to do so. Jeremy had told Hudson it was his choice but encouraged him to make up his mind before he left for university. In the end, Hudson had cast aside his Wright surname and adopted St. Clair. He knew it would please his new relatives and, ultimately, it would open doors formerly closed to him as he pursued matters of business. He might not hold a title as Jeremy and Luke did but the magic of the St. Clair name was the next best thing.
As tea ended, Jeremy said, “I’ll walk you up to see Cor.”
“Don’t forget to stop by the nursery after,” Laurel reminded him. “If you don’t, we’ll send the mob of children looking for you.”
“Is that a threat?” he teased.
“Most certainly, a promise,” she said.
Hudson laughed and left the drawing room with Jeremy. He knew his brother enough to realize Jeremy had something to tell him, apart from the others.
“What do I need to know?” he asked.
“You’ve always been intuitive. That, along with your common sense, makes you the businessman you are,” Jeremy noted. “The various family fortunes are in good hands and have almost doubled in your time at the helm.”
“I brought a few boxes of documents for us to go over,” Hudson told him. “Regarding bridge construction and steam engines. I also have an inventor I’m going to see two days after Christmas. With the Stockton and Darlington Railway now open, more public trains pulled by steam engines will begin operations. I have a group of investors that will go in with us to create our own railway company.”
“Men you trust?”
“Of course. Besides the family, Lords Neville and Morefield. Lords Merrifield and Rutherford, too. All close friends to the family and in a position to invest. But we can talk more about this later. What about Cor?”
His brother stopped. “Cor is dying.”
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