Wish Upon A Duke

Genres: Historical Romance; Regency Romance; Victorian Romance

Synopsis

When Savannah Dawson married the second son of an English earl, she never dreamed she'd have to leave America, let alone enter the aristocracy at her son's side. Yet when the earl dies and her husband disappears at sea, Savannah's life is upended. Bringing her young son to England to meet her shrewish mother-in-law is only the beginning of her trials. The dowager countess has asked a duke to assist in the new earl's education—a man whose power and position could define the course of Savannah's life. Proud and stubborn, Savannah refuses to be intimidated. And yet neither can she resist the attraction between them.



Reformed rakehell Gabriel Armstrong, Duke of Clevedon, has no room in his life for a woman. Especially an American commoner, the widow of his childhood friend. Beautiful and bold, Savannah nevertheless captivates his imagination.



Rumors abound that Savannah's husband is alive. Forces are at work to deny her son his title. And when an interloper arrives demanding repayment or revenge, the life of Savannah's son is in jeopardy. Savannah and Gabriel must work together to escape the shadows that could blot out the light of their future.



Contains mature themes.

Release date: February 12, 2021

Publisher: Oliver Heber Books

Print pages: 240

Content advisory: Sizzling scenes

Sample

Chapter One

England 1815

 

Rain, the relentless, nonstop rain, continued to pelt down on the carriage as it had for the past two days. “Typical spring weather” was what she’d been told by the coachman after the first day. Fortunately, she had been able to afford to rent a carriage to take them to their new home, Sky View, on the southwest coast of England.

She glanced to the seat across from her, where her seven-year-old son, Vincent, lay sleeping. The boy had done remarkably well through all this. First his father died unexpectedly, then she received word that his uncle had also died in a mysterious hunting accident. As he’d never married or had children of his own, this left her son the current Earl of Dorset.

Her mother-in-law had pleaded with her to bring Vincent to England so he could be groomed for his role. She had done this twice. The first time when Roland had died, the second, of course, when Timothy, the earl at the time, was shot and killed in a hunting accident. The earldom could have been passed to some obscure cousin living in the north of England, but it was time. Time for Vincent to take his rightful place.

It had been an easy decision to make. Though her own parents adored Vincent, they understood their young grandson’s station in life. Not to mention her father saw the wealth the earldom would provide for his daughter and grandson. Being a lawyer and politician respectively, Roland and James Kennedy had shared many a bottle of fine brandy discussing how the British aristocracy would have to expand their business interests from simple tenant farming to interests outside their estates.

That need had been in part what brought Roland to America. He saw the potential, the new opportunities to secure his future. Investing in shipping, the building of  ships,  as well as bringing spices and sugar from the Caribbean, Roland had made a fortune for himself and his family. Until he was lost at sea and left Savannah a widow. A very wealthy young widow. Her father had overseen the sale of the foundry and businesses on her behalf. Then came the news from England, and she made the hardest decision of her life. To take Vincent back to England to claim his birthright.

Her father had forewarned her of people wanting to take over her son’s upbringing, as his life would now drastically change. Though she was tougher than she appeared, Savannah was well aware of the hierarchy and how women fit in. He had told her to stand her ground if something didn’t seem right.

She stared out the window at the lush rolling countryside as the rain continued to pelt down and she prayed for the strength to see this through. She was the outsider. Now she would know how Roland must have felt when he first arrived in America. Then again, he had been an educated man with money. Men were always viewed differently.

To make matters worse, she had no one on her side. Though her mother-in-law would want what was best for Vincent, Savannah was sure she would have ulterior motives. Roland had told her enough about his mother throughout the years. She was known for her sharp tongue and ruthless ways, and how one must keep their guard up when around the countess.

Her father had given her the name of a man he and Roland did business within London. He told her on the day of their departure that he had written the gentleman, and should she have any questions or problems to contact said gentleman in London. She had tucked his name into a journal she kept, which now contained crucial information her father had discovered about the estate through the family solicitors. How much they were actually sharing was beyond her, but since her father was acting as the boy’s American representative, she had little doubt they’d withhold much.

She wished her father had been able to come with them, just to see them settled in and to check everything out. Her mother had been in ill health herself for the past several months, which solidified her father’s wish to remain in America. Savannah would make it on her own, take meticulous notes, and ask all the right questions. She was still the boy’s mother, and she would make sure he didn’t have his future taken away from him,

Vincent would be schooled at home until he was old enough to be sent to a boys’ school, where he would learn things not even she could teach him. Education had been another topic Roland had discussed with her. Even though Roland wasn’t the heir, his father made sure his second son was well schooled in case he ever needed to take over the role as earl. That had proven to be wise, as Roland’s brother, Timothy, had suffered an early demise.

It would be hard at first for her son. He would not have many playmates or friends. At least not until he went off to school. She knew that would be a difficult adjustment for him to have to make.

She wondered what would become of her once Vincent was on a schedule. Until he went to boarding school, Savannah intended to stay as close to her son as possible. She wondered if the dowager countess still resided at the family home or if she resided elsewhere. The dowager countess made no mention of anything except Vincent and his future in her many letters.

Suddenly, the carriage slowed and made a left turn. Though she couldn’t see the manor home, Savannah was aware they were now on the family estate. The long drive leading to the house was covered with stone. Trees lined either side, and beyond that stretched a combination of wooded areas and green fields. Even through the rain, she could tell the property was well maintained. The estate boasted fields of meadowsweet, sun-dried grass nearer the ocean, and thick forests throughout the back of the acreage. As the carriage pulled to a stop at the manor house, Savannah could only stare in awe. She’d seen fine large houses in America, but nothing as grand as this. Sky View was indeed far more incredible than the homes of the new rich in New York, Boston, or Rhode Island.

She reached across the carriage and shook Vincent ever so slightly on the shoulder. The boy’s sable-brown hair was tousled from tossing and turning. Slowly, his coffee-colored eyes opened. He sat up, rubbed his eyes, and looked out the window.

“Are we here, Mama?” he asked, wide-eyed.

She nodded. “Yes, we are finally home, my lord.”

He giggled at the way she addressed him. Though she’d covered many topics with her young son, it would take far more to turn this American-born-and-bred boy into an earl. It would be worth it.

The large oak front door opened as she and Vincent exited the carriage, and a tall, well-dressed older man appeared. The butler, Savannah mused. She held on to Vincent’s hand as he stood in awe of that grand home.

“I am Savannah Dawson, and this is my son, Vincent, the new Earl of Dorset,” she said in a clear, steady voice.

The butler stood at the top of the stairs waiting. “I am Higgins. We’ve been expecting you, madam. Welcome to Sky View.”

This was the moment she’d been dreading. There was no turning back. Still holding Vincent’s hand, she began walking up the stairs, her back straight as befitted the regal woman she knew she was. She and Roland might not have lived in the manner in which he was raised, but Vincent was now an earl, and she would be damned if anyone would damage her late husband’s memory.

At the top of the stairs, she followed the butler inside. Trying not to stare, Savannah felt in awe of the elegant surroundings. She’d never seen an entrance hall quite like it. The ceiling stood far above them, with an imposing grand staircase descending from the floor above. A magnificent fresco graced the ceiling.

Higgins paused. “If you will follow me, I’ll show you to the blue drawing room and let the dowager countess know you’ve arrived.”

“Thank you, Higgins,” she replied as she followed the aging butler up the stairs.

Still holding Vincent’s hand, she continued to follow him to two massive oak doors. A footman stood in red-and-gold livery to one side of the door. Seeing the butler, the young man opened the door. Vincent stared with wide eyes. It was almost too much for either of them to take in. The room was decorated in various shades of blue, with gold for an accent color. While warm and inviting, Savannah found it almost pretentious.

The butler had disappeared in search of Roland’s mother, Vincent’s grandmother, Eloisa, the Dowager Countess of Dorset. While Roland had depicted his mother as strict and for the most part unloving, Savannah prayed the woman would accept Vincent and her. The dowager countess had not been too enthused upon learning she had an American daughter-in-law. To her, Savannah was nothing more than a common tavern wench, not to mention she wasn’t happy her son had married an American, which she let Roland know in every letter.

Sitting down on a gold brocade couch, Savannah encouraged her young son to do the same. He sat next to her, his eyes still wide as saucers.

“Mama, is this where we’re going to live?”

“Yes, darling. We’ve discussed this. This is your father’s family home, and it is now ours, remember?”

“Yes. I’m the earl,” he said proudly. He smiled and surveyed his new surroundings.

The sound of the door being opened and the swish of skirts caused Savannah to glance back across the room. A petite woman in her early fifties walked toward them. Her brown eyes stood out against her salt-and-pepper hair.

Savannah swallowed hard. She would never meet the woman’s expectations. It was evident in her expression she showed Savannah as she peered from her to Vincent, then back.

“Horrible day for travel, but I see you both made it safely,” the dowager countess observed.

“Yes, we’re happy to be here, Lady Dorset,” Savannah replied. “It was a difficult journey.”

Ignoring her, the older woman focused her attention on Vincent. “You look so much like your father. You may call me Grandmother.”

Vincent nodded, saying nothing.

“The boy can’t speak?”

“Of course he can speak,” Savannah replied. “He’s simply overwhelmed by all the changes.”

“I’ll ring for his governess to come take him to the nursery,” the dowager countess said, apparently without a second thought as to what Savannah had just told her.

“You’ve already hired a governess?”

“Of course I have. I’ve hired a tutor as well, but we can discuss all that over tea.”

Higgins entered the room and stood, waiting on the older woman’s instructions.

“Have Miss West show my grandson to the nursery. I’m sure he’s hungry.”

“Yes, my lady. Anything else?”

“Mrs. Dawson and I will have tea before she’s shown to her rooms.”

“Very well,” Higgins replied, and disappeared as quietly as he had appeared.

Savannah remained quiet, not knowing what to say to her mother-in-law. She had the distinct feeling the older woman was not going to be easily won over.

After a few minutes of awkward silence, a young blonde woman appeared.

“Miss West,” the Dowager Lady Dorset said, “this is my grandson, Vincent. Why don’t you show him to the nursery? His mother and I have much to discuss.”

Miss West offered her hand to Vincent. “Come, Master Vincent. I’ll show you to your new room.”

Vincent cautiously eyed his governess, then glanced at his mother for approval. Savannah hoped he didn’t cause a scene, though on second thought, it might be just the thing to introduce his grandmother to how American-raised boys acted.

“Go on. Go with Miss West,” Savannah encouraged. “I’ll see you shortly.”

“But I want to stay with you, Mama.”

“I know you do, but remember what we talked about? You’re now the Earl of Dorset, and with that comes new responsibilities and changes. I’m sure you and Miss West will become fast friends.”

“Very well,” he replied sullenly. He walked over to take Miss West’s outstretched hand. Savannah’s heart beat a little quicker seeing her son leave with someone she just met. The door opened once again, this time the butler entered with a footman, carrying a tray with cups, saucers, and a pot of tea.

“Come,” the dowager countess said as the door closed. “How do you take your tea?”

Savannah didn’t say anything for a moment, and then felt the older woman staring at her. “I’m sorry. It’s just that Vincent and I have been together since his father died, and it’s hard to watch him walk off with someone else.”

“Then you have many adjustments to make.”

“Yes, you’re right.”

She accepted a cup of tea Lady Dorset had made her without waiting for her response to her earlier question.

The older woman stirred sugar into her tea. “Vincent will be fine. He has much to learn, as I’m sure you are aware.”

“Yes, Roland had shared with me his upbringing…”

“His education was different from that of his brother, as shall be Vincent’s. He’s the earl now, and that means changes.”

“He still needs to be a little boy,” Savannah said softly.

“He has responsibilities.”

“What sort of responsibility can a seven-year-old boy have? He needs to be schooled to learn what’s expected of him when he takes on his role of earl.”

“Ah, you have much to learn about the English aristocracy.” The dowager countess picked up her cup of tea and took a polite sip.

“I understand the family solicitors are overseeing everything until Vincent is old enough?”

Lady Dorset nodded. “The estate manager here will run the estate, as will the estate managers of the other two holdings.”

“I would like to be allowed to oversee the ledgers on behalf of Vincent, of course.”

She arched a gray brow. “That is highly unusual.”

“But not unheard of?”

“No, I suppose not. I can assure you the earldom will be well looked after until Vincent comes of age.”

Savannah said nothing and took a sip of tea.

“I have enlisted the help of the Duke of Clevedon to assist with Vincent’s education. He lives in the estate next to Sky View.”

“Why would you do that?” Savannah asked.

“Because the boy needs a father figure, someone besides tutors to teach him how to hunt and fish and ride a horse. In fact, I’ve invited the duke to dinner tonight. I thought the sooner he meets you and young Vincent, the better.”

“You want a stranger to teach my son?”

“Clevedon is hardly a stranger, my dear. He was Roland’s best friend for many, many years. I simply asked him to help with the boy’s upbringing, and he enthusiastically agreed.”

Too many decisions were being made for her in the raising of her son. Unfortunately, some of the points her mother-in-law brought up were valid. Vincent did need a strong male figure to look up to, and if Lady Dorset thought the duke was suitable, then she should too, though she’d reserve any decision until she met the duke.

“Then I look forward to meeting the duke and hearing his thoughts on how my son should be raised.”

“Excellent.” Lady Dorset beamed, but then she appraised Savannah’s dress with disdain. “You’ll need a more suitable wardrobe. I’m afraid your current one won’t suffice in your new role.”

“How’s that?”

“Americans are behind in fashion. What you wear is out-of-date. No worry. My modiste will come from London to fit you. I’ll send for her immediately.”

Savannah was going to protest, but she had the feeling that would do her no good, at least not now. She needed to give everything some time before she began to make her own changes.

“Very well. If you don’t mind, I’d like to go to my rooms. I’d like to rest before dinner.”

“Of course. Let me get Mrs. Hatcher to show you the way. Did you bring a lady’s maid?”

Savannah smiled. “No, I’m afraid I didn’t. The one I had didn’t want to leave her family by moving all the way to England.”

“I’ll have Mrs. Hatcher find someone temporarily. Then you can find someone permanently.”

Having her own maid, except on occasions where she needed help dressing, was not something she truly desired. She didn’t cherish the idea of having to wear a corset more often than she was accustomed to.

Lady Dorset rose and walked to the bellpull before sitting back in her chair. “I look forward to getting to know you and my grandson better,” she said without a smile.

Savannah wasn’t so sure about that. The older woman seemed more interested in seeing to Vincent’s immediate needs than Savannah’s. The disdain in her voice just now made it evident Lady Dorset was going to make life difficult. “Will Vincent be allowed to join us at dinner this evening?”

The countess stared at her in shock, as though she’d said something blasphemous. “Heavens, no. He’ll take his meals in the nursery.”

“But won’t the duke want to meet his new charge?”

“The duke will meet him another time.”

She was going to ask more about this duke, but Mrs. Hastings reappeared.

“Mrs. Hastings, would you show Mrs. Dawson to her rooms? I believe she’d like to rest awhile before dressing for dinner.”

“Yes, madam.” She eyed Savannah curiously. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you to your rooms.”

Lady Dorset said, “She’ll also need a lady’s maid, if you can find a girl temporarily until someone suitable can be hired.”

“Miss Abbott will suit perfectly,” the housekeeper replied.

“The upstairs maid? Yes, she would be more than capable.”

“I have her unpacking for you now,” she said, glancing at Savannah. “I think you’ll like her.”

 

Chapter Two

Gabriel Armstrong, twelfth Duke of Clevedon, sat back in his chair, estate ledgers lying open on the desk in front of him. Though he had an extremely competent estate manager who kept the ledgers up-to-date, Gabriel himself liked to review everything before his once-a-month meeting with Harold Bottoms, a man whose father had been estate manager at Brook Fall for his entire adult life. The two men met weekly, more if there was something requiring Gabriel’s immediate attention. Other than that, Bottoms kept himself busy on the estate. Brook Fall wasn’t small by any means. It graced the English countryside with magnificent meadows and forests, encompassing nearly twenty thousand acres.

The estate had been the ducal family seat for over four hundred years, making it one of the oldest in all England, and it was where Gabriel preferred to spend his time. London held no appeal for him. He tried to make sure his trips to Town were quick, staying only long enough to take care of whatever business might need completing. But then there was the Season. Every mother wanted nothing more than to see her daughter married to him, which was precisely why he never let on he was indeed in the market for a wife. He tolerated various balls, soirees, and dinner parties, but as far as anyone knew, he was there only at the invitation of the host.

Finding a wife, a woman who would be his duchess, had proven more complicated than he first anticipated. He for feared every debutante would be lined up waiting to catch his attention, Instead, he quietly paid attention to who attended each event.

He wanted a woman who was both intelligent and pleasing to the eyes. She didn’t have to be beautiful, as he often found the beauties were either lacking in intelligence or they put themselves above everyone else around them. Most who fell into that category were clingy, trying their best to win his favor and attention.

The woman who became his duchess would have to be kind and considerate, and someone with whom he could converse. He disliked having to speak about the weather or the latest gossip. He detested gossip and wanted nothing to do with women who enjoyed it. She would also have to be willing to pick up the reins of the charities his late mother had started which provided clothing, food, and education for the children living on the estate with their families or in the village.

A knock on the door caused him to slip back into reality.

“Come,” he said.

The door opened, and his long-time butler, Simmons, appeared. The man, like his estate manager, was not the first in his family to hold his position. Simmons’s father and grandfather had both served as butlers at Brook Fall.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, Your Grace, but this just arrived from Lady Dorset,” he said, presenting a small silver tray to Gabriel.

Gabriel nodded and scanned the contents of the note. “Is someone waiting for a reply?”

“Yes, Your Grace. I sent him to the kitchens to wait.”

“Very well, give me five minutes to write a reply, and tell Cook there is no need to make dinner. It appears I’ll be dining with the dowager countess. Her grandson, the new earl, and her daughter-in-law have finally arrived.”

“I’ll tell Cook not to prepare dinner and return for your reply, Your Grace. Anything else?”

“No, that’ll be all, Simmons.”

He pulled out a fresh sheet of paper as the butler silently left the room. Moving one of the ledgers out of his way, he began to compose his reply. Though he wasn’t in the mood to dine with the countess and listen to her rave on about members of the peerage, he knew he needed to. He’d agreed to assist in the schooling of the young earl.

How old was the boy? Quite young, perhaps six or seven. Though Gabriel hadn’t had many dealings with children, he found himself eager to embark upon his new adventure. He’d been taken aback at first when the countess had come to him, but understood her reasoning after learning there weren’t any other male relatives remotely near the estate who could serve as a mentor to Roland’s son. He couldn’t wait to spend time with the boy.

Simmons reappeared and took the silver tray, which now included the duke’s reply. Gabriel rose from his chair and walked to the windows. It was still raining, though far less than it had for the past few days. Being cooped up in the house like this unsettled him. He preferred riding his horse and checking on the estate. There was always something going on, and Gabriel couldn’t envision any other place to spend his time than at Brook Fall.

At a table near his desk which held crystal decanters, he poured himself a brandy and returned to his seat. The countess was holding dinner at seven, which meant it would be an early evening. That was another thing he didn’t miss about London. Dinners started late, for the most part, and took hours to complete. He was usually seated next to or near a young single woman, something he abhorred. The only thing good about his position at functions like this was that he was among the first, if not the first, to be seated. Given his family’s history, he was usually the senior ranking member in attendance.

He swirled the glass before taking a long swallow of the French brandy he’d had shipped home after his last visit to Paris. No one could quite make brandy, wine, or champagne like the French, and he had a cellar full to prove it.

His mind wandered back to the young boy, Vincent. Would he favor his old friend Roland, or would he resemble his American-born mother? Gabriel had heard countless stories about her, not only from the countess, but from the late earl, Roland’s brother, Timothy. Both had been beside themselves when Roland accepted a position as a partner in an American foundry. The countess thought Roland was being disloyal to his family. As a second son, it was not only his right, but his destiny to choose what he would do in life. He accepted no money from his brother, not that he’d had an allowance to begin with when he left for America. That was the one thing Timothy had done out of spite: cut off Roland’s allowance. Through savvy business dealings, Roland had nevertheless built a fortune of his own.

Gabriel had known Timothy almost as well as he’d known Roland. Being that they were brothers, one would have thought they would have been closer in personality. Instead, Gabriel found Timothy reckless and uncaring. Certainly, he himself had been raised to believe that as duke, he would be above everyone else. Timothy had been raised similarly, but he had a cruel, vindictive streak, and his brother paid dearly. Roland became the victim of his brother’s wicked side and found himself at school unable to avoid the wrath of his brother or his friends. At home, it had been easier for Roland because he could ride his horse across the estate and not be found. Gabriel and Roland had become fast friends through their mutual love of horses.

Gabriel shuddered at the thought of Timothy’s cruelty. No one had been safe from him, not his siblings nor the boys at school nor servants. Anyone who dared cross him at the wrong time had paid the price, and dearly. Timothy might not get his vengeance that moment, but he would instead wait until his unsuspecting prey was caught off guard, much like an animal on the hunt. Gabriel had never been on that receiving end of Timothy’s machinations as there seemed to be an unspoken vow between the two. It almost seemed that Timothy knew that Gabriel’s rank made him untouchable.

Timothy’s death had been due to a mysterious hunting accident, which shocked a few. He was known to be an avid hunter, and his hunting parties were famous. The estate always had plenty of game for Timothy’s guests, and he was usually the one to lead the parties out each morning. Gabriel had been invited to several until he’d mentioned—perhaps, in Timothy’s eyes, complained—about his host’s reckless manner with his rifle. After that, the invitations quit coming.

Gabriel had only been to Sky View twice since Timothy’s death. Once to pay his condolences upon the news of the earl’s death, and the second to visit with the countess when she approached him with the idea of him mentoring Roland’s young son, now the Earl of Dorset.

Tonight would be his third. A small dinner affair to welcome Roland’s widow and son home, and to give Gabriel an opportunity to meet his small charge. The idea was still odd to him. He’d never given much thought to children. Yes, he wanted children of his own at some point, but to be asked to help with the raising of someone else’s child gave him pause.

Then there was the young earl’s mother. He knew little about her. Most of what he’d learned had come from his correspondence with Roland. She was American, her father a wealthy industrialist. Roland had loved her deeply, which was a far cry from what the countess felt. It had never sat well with her that her second son would marry an American, let alone a commoner. The dowager countess thought America was full of savages and that they were lacking in social skills. She had mentioned more than once that she couldn’t wait for her grandson to arrive so she could make his Americanisms disappear, which would be impossible, because Vincent’s mother could never change who she was.

He would have to monitor closely to make sure the countess didn’t attempt to undermine her daughter-in-law. He intended to get to know Mrs. Dawson better, as it would be to their advantage to play on the same team, so to speak. The dowager countess would have to be monitored and kept from fulfilling her own agenda, which would be to send her daughter-in-law back to America.

It must have taken a great deal of courage for Mrs. Dawson to leave her own family and set out on a new life to see her son raised as an earl should be. Roland had obviously educated his wife quite well in how the aristocracy worked, never imagining that it would be put to good use when his own young son quite unexpectedly became earl. He imagined she must be a strong woman to accept such responsibility. He’d always been in awe of women who were able to rise to any occasion. Savannah Dawson certainly sounded like this sort of woman.

His thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a quick knock on the door, followed by the Earl of Wexford pushing past a flustered Simmons. Gabriel and Wexford had been fast friends at Eton and Cambridge, part of a small group of heirs sent to the finest schools to prepare them for their future responsibilities.

“Wexford!” Gabriel exclaimed. He shut the two remaining ledgers that lay open. One thing about Wexford, he was a bit too curious about the goings-on of those around him.

“I tried to tell Simmons here you wouldn’t mind being interrupted.”

“What brings you to Brook Fall on a such a miserable day?”

The earl arranged his lanky frame in one of the overstuffed leather chairs in front of Gabriel’s desk. With his blond hair and piercing blue eyes, he always reminded Gabriel of a Norseman. Or was it a Viking? “I was nearby, heading back to London after visiting my sister Helen and her family.”

Gabriel rose from behind his desk and walked to the sideboard where his liquor decanters sat. “Brandy?”

Wexford nodded, saying nothing.

“How is your sister?” Gabriel asked. “I don’t believe I’ve seen her recently.”

“That’s because she’s with child again and spends most of her time confined to the house.”

Gabriel poured a healthy splash of brandy into each of the snifters and passed one to Wexford. “What is this, her fourth child?”

Wexford accepted the glass, nodding. “Yes, and each one is more difficult than the previous. Four children in five years? Poor Helen hasn’t had a year’s rest,” Wexford replied. “I understand Burton wanting an heir, but he’s become fanatical about the whole thing.”

“Perhaps they’ll get lucky this time and have a son, then Burton will not visit her bed so often.”

“One can hope,” he said, then tossed back the brandy. Wexford and his sister, along with their brother, Tom, had had a trying childhood. Their father had preferred his drink over his family. Children were meant to be seen and not heard and, most importantly, be raised by others. Thus his friend had been sent to Eton at a very young age. His family never visited, and it was rare for him to go home during any holiday breaks. It had been easy for him, Roland, and Wexford to become fast friends.

“Has your protégé arrived?”

“Yes, he and his mother arrived today, and he’s not my protégé, Parr.” Parr was what Gabriel and everyone else called Wexford in private, rather than his given or secondary names. They were stuffy old monikers that he refused to use.

“When do you plan on meeting them?”

“The countess is having me for dinner this evening for exactly that purpose.”

Parr snorted. “Of course, you’re eager for this meeting?”

Gabriel swallowed some brandy and gazed thoughtfully at his friend. “Yes, I am.”

“And his mother?”

“His mother as well, since she will be the one I deal with in regard to the boy. The dowager countess, as you know, is the one who requested my help with him.”

“At least the boy’s young enough to still rid him of any bad habits.”

Gabriel nodded. “Knowing Roland, the boy has had the start of a decent education. Nothing like he’ll receive here, of course, but he won’t be running wild and disobedient.”

“I don’t envy you.”

“Neither do I, but it’ll be worth it in the long term,” Gabriel said as he glanced at a clock. It was time to make himself ready for dinner. “You’re welcome to stay the night. I’m sure Cook can come up with a decent enough dinner for you.”

“That’s much appreciated. Thank you.”

“No need. The weather hasn’t been the best for traveling. Feel free to make yourself at home. Since the boy and his mother arrived just today, I doubt it’ll be a long night. Perhaps you’ll indulge me in a game of chess later?”

Parr grinned and swirled the remaining brandy in his glass. “I can’t wait to beat you yet again.”

“Says a man who hated the game a year ago.”

Parr laughed loudly and finished his brandy. “Let me allow you to dress for your dinner. I’ll have your man show my valet to my room, if he hasn’t done so already.”

“I’ll see you later for that game of chess,” Gabriel replied. He stood from behind the desk, and locked the ledgers in a desk drawer before he walked toward the door, Parr following. He left Parr speaking with Simmons, then quickly made his way up the stairs, down the hall to his room. Inside, he found Burns laying out his clothes for the evening. The man knew what Gabriel wanted—sometimes even before he did. It was almost eerie how well he understood Gabriel’s needs.

Good valets took years to learn their master’s preferences, but Burns was exceptional. He never overstepped his bounds and had served Gabriel well, even becoming a very trusted servant and confidant. The man had certainly seen him in not the best of conditions quite a few times, especially after Gabriel’s father, the former duke, died.

“Your Grace, I have everything ready for your bath.”

“Thank you, Burns. I have enough time for a long soak in the tub,” he replied. “Also, beware, Parr is spending the night. Hopefully, he won’t pull any pranks.”

Parr had always been the jokester among their friends, and Gabriel had learned early on not to trust him in situations such as this. He might find himself soaked in water upon entering his own rooms when he returned this evening, the victim of a pail of water strategically placed above the doorframe. Nothing was sacred when Parr the prankster was around.

His mind was filled with questions, more about Roland’s widow than the boy. What sort of woman was she? She was American after all. He’d heard American women were bold and daring compared to most of their English counterparts. Was she pleasing to look at? Remembering his friend Roland’s taste in women, his wife would be a beauty.

 

Chapter Three

Savannah barely listened as Miss Abbott, the lady’s maid the countess assigned her, prattled on and on. Occasionally, she would pick up a snippet of how quiet the house had been since the late young earl had died, or how well-liked Lady Dorset was, how charitable she was, or even how she knew the house inside and out.

Drivel was the word that went through Savannah’s mind. The girl had probably never had much experience dressing a lady, and Savannah was slightly uncomfortable having someone to assist her. But this was how the English did things, so she’d better adapt. Life was no longer as it once was, and for Vincent’s sake, she had to put her own feelings aside.

She walked over to the mirror to make sure everything was in place and that she appeared presentable. Tonight, the Duke of Clevedon was coming to dinner. Why on her first night here, Savannah couldn’t fathom, but the dowager countess had set everything up, and Savannah would play her part. She was quite curious about the duke and wanted to know more about him. He would be spending considerable time with Vincent, and that was enough. He would make him a proper English lord, which made Savannah fear she would lose the sweet young boy she loved.

“You look quite lovely, my lady. The color becomes you,” Abbott said, beaming.

“Thank you. I do love the color.”

The gown was a deep rose, the bodice lower than what she usually preferred. She’d tried not to feign shock the first time she caught a glimpse of herself. She hadn’t realized how out of fashion most all her wardrobe was. She would have to venture to London to remedy that situation.

There were also other matters needing her attention in London. She needed to make an appointment to meet with Roland’s solicitors. She’d already been in touch with them when she realized she would be moving to England. Though she had a good idea of what Roland had left them, she decided to stay involved. She had read every report that had come out about Roland’s businesses in England, along with his American interests. Though most women would shy away from figures and reports, Savannah welcomed them. She’d made a promise to herself when Roland died not to take any man’s word about how Roland’s investments were doing.

Many men thought woman were simply another piece of property and treated them as such. Roland had been far more forward-thinking. He knew his wife to be capable far beyond just keeping the household books. He’d known she could easily handle anything that came her way. Already, she had a list of questions to ask the solicitor when she met with him. More would follow, she was sure, as she became acquainted with her new life changes.

“You best go downstairs, my lady. The dowager countess doesn’t like anyone being late.”

Savannah nodded and placed her hand over the double strand of pearls Roland had given her for their last anniversary. Turning from the mirror, she walked across the room to the door.

A few minutes later, she stood in front of the drawing room, where a red-liveried footman opened the door. Everything was so formal here.

The dowager countess sat near the fire, a tall man with golden-brown hair talking with her. Savannah was taken with the way the red highlights in his hair shone in the firelight. He appeared to be muscular, which she thought was odd. She knew from what her husband had told her that most Englishmen preferred to spend their time indoors. The duke appeared to enjoy the outdoors. His eyes met hers for a moment before the dowager countess interrupted.

Savannah was tardy, and the censure in Lady Dorset’s eyes told her the woman didn’t approve.

“I apologize if I kept you waiting,” Savannah offered.

The dowager countess brushed her off by quickly making introductions. “Your Grace, may I present my son Roland’s widow, Mrs. Savannah Dawson.” She turned to Savannah. “Mrs. Dawson, may I present His Grace, Gabriel Armstrong, Duke of Clevedon. As you know, his Grace has graciously taken up the job of overseeing young Vincent’s upbringing.”

Savannah gazed into the angular, chiseled face of the duke. He was quite handsome, more than a man should be allowed. Never had she seen such a perfect specimen. If the duke knew how good-looking he was, he hid it well. Surely he must be used to being stared at by countless women in the ballrooms of London.

The duke took her gloved hand in his for a moment. “Mrs. Dawson. A pleasure to meet you, and my condolences on the loss of your husband. Roland was a close friend and will be missed, even if he was in America.”

“Thank you, sir...Duke...Your Grace.” Savannah knew she was fumbling over her words, and the best thing she could do was say nothing.

She sat in a dark blue damask chair and held her breath for a moment, trying to regain her composure. Why was this man so alluring? Was it because of his title, or was it his beauty? She’d practiced all afternoon over how to speak to him, the man who would help her prepare Vincent for his role as earl. Now all she was doing was fumbling, and she knew her mother-in-law would be quick to point it out later.

“Vincent is quite excited to meet you, Your Grace. It’s all he’s talked about on our ride from London.”

The duke glanced at the countess. He appeared uncomfortable about something.

“Vincent and the duke have already met. I had his governess bring him down from the nursery before he went to bed.”

She tried not to act surprised, but by the narrowing of the duke’s eyes, he recognized the dowager countess had caught her off guard. “He has? I would have liked to have said good night to my son.”

The dowager countess raised her hand in a dismissive manner. “The boy can no longer be coddled.”

“I fail to understand how my son saying good night to me is coddling him. Surely you must understand he’s in a new house, surrounded by strangers.”

“Perhaps I could accompany you to the nursery while we wait for dinner,” the duke said.

It was an unusual request, but one Savannah hoped the dowager countess would not dismiss. Not in front of their guest. Lady Dorset nodded stiffly, “Very well, go ahead. I’ll allow some leeway this time. But from here on out, Mrs. Dawson, you must agree to keep the boy on a schedule.”

“He is my son, and I will not be told when I can or cannot see him.”

She rose from her chair, nodded to the duke, and began to follow him. She knew she’d overstepped, but she would not be dismissed, nor would she be told when she would or would not be allowed to see her son. She certainly didn’t need a duke to come between her and the dowager countess. She and her mother-in-law would have to learn how to coexist. Nevertheless, the duke, having clearly assessed the situation, had interceded on her behalf.

“I can’t thank you enough, Your Grace, for doing this.”

“Don’t mention it. If we’re going to see to young Vincent’s education, we’ll have to work together, else the dowager countess will take over.”

“I know. Roland told me quite a bit about his mother, though I’m sure he never told me the entire story because he never expected any of this would have happened.”

They began walking up the stairs to the third floor where the nursery was located. “Would you have stayed in America if Timothy hadn’t been killed?” the duke asked.

“Probably. I had my family there, and they had been quite supportive until I got the news about Timothy.”

“I take it they didn’t approve of you uprooting the boy and bringing him to England?”

She smiled. “You would be right about that, Your Grace,” she replied. “Tell me, how did a man of your stature become involved in helping raise a young boy who isn’t even related to you?”

“Roland was a good friend. We’d known each other since we were very young boys. I would like to think he would have done the same for me if the situation were reversed.”

He grasped the doorknob and began to open the door leading into the nursery.

“That would mean giving up a life in America,” she said. She tried not to stare at him. He was one of the most handsome men she’d ever laid eyes on with his golden-brown hair that in the sunlight cast a hint of red. His emerald-green eyes were unlike any she’d seen before. A woman could melt under the gaze of those eyes. He was quite muscular from time spent outside, something she noted most of his peers didn’t do.

“Touché, Mrs. Dawson.”

Miss West, the governess, sitting by the fire reading a book, startled when they entered the room. “I’m afraid he’s fast asleep.”

“That’s all right,” Savannah said quietly. “I won’t wake him. He’s had a long, busy day.”

Smiling, she entered Vincent’s room and drew closer to the bed, bending down to give her young son a kiss and smooth his hair. When she straightened, she noticed the duke standing just outside the doorway. He watched her as though he were aware of the turmoil she must be going through.

She quietly closed the door and nodded to the duke. “Thank you.”

He nodded and followed her out of the room. “Shall we rejoin Lady Dorset?”

“I suppose we must. Has she really always been like this?”

“Yes, always. Once she gets to know you, she’ll warm up.”

Savannah arched a brow. “You say that with some authority, Your Grace.”

“I am well versed in how the dowager countess operates.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. She’s, well, complicated.”

“That’s being polite, Your Grace.”

He stifled a laugh. “I suppose you’re right.”

As they approached the drawing room door, a footman opened it, and the duke followed Savannah inside. The dowager countess sat in the same spot she’d occupied when they’d left.

“Higgins has just announced dinner is ready.” The dowager countess stood and walked toward the duke. He extended his arm to her. As the older woman placed her hand on his arm, he gazed over at Savannah, his full lips quirked up in amusement.

As per custom, the duke and countess led the way to the dining room. When they entered the room, there were three place settings at the far end. Trying to remember the protocol Roland had taught her, Savannah wondered if the duke would sit at the head of the table. There were too many rules to remember, and this was one of them. She was sure the dowager countess would remind her, and eventually, she would learn. As the mother of the earl, she had to.

Dinner wasn’t quite as long and drawn out as Savannah had imagined. Her mother-in-law probably meant to keep it shorter for not only Savannah, but their guest as well. Savannah stayed quiet, not wanting to intrude on the conversation unless asked a question. She didn’t want to give the countess any reason to publicly dress her down, as she seemed so fond of doing.

Savannah wondered if the two of them could ever be friends of some sort. For the time being, she was better off listening rather than adding too much to the conversation. Once the newness wore off and Vincent settled into a routine, she hoped the countess would back down and return to her own life. At least she could hope.

“If you have no plans for tomorrow, I thought you and Vincent could visit,” the duke said suddenly. “I have a pony chosen for him, and he could begin riding lessons.”

“That is most kind of you, Your Grace, but surely you don’t have time to personally instruct Vincent.”

“I won’t be instructing him. Bart, one of my stable boys, will start out teaching him. I thought a younger boy rather than my stable master would better suit Vincent.”

“It’s very important Vincent learn to ride,” Lady Dorset remarked. “The earlier he begins, the better, and I can’t think of anyone more suited than the duke’s staff.”

Savannah nodded. “Very well, then. I’m sure Vincent will be excited. He loves horses.”

She gazed discreetly at the duke out of the corner of her eye, watching him as he finished a lone piece of roast pheasant on his plate. She wasn’t sure what to make of him. Certainly, he and Roland had been fast friends, but her late husband had shared little about his life in England. The stories he did relate were usually about his family, but even those were few and far between. Why agree to assist in raising his son? What would happen if she were to ever remarry? Would he continue on in his role, or would he allow her new husband to take over?

These were legitimate questions, which, for now, she’d keep to herself.

***

The moment she walked into the drawing room, Gabriel was intrigued by Savannah Dawson. He could easily see how she’d caught Roland’s attention. She was beautiful with light-blonde hair and sapphire eyes, elegantly tall, and carried herself as though she were nobility. She wasn’t pale in coloring like her English counterparts. The golden tone of her skin gave evidence of a love of the outdoors.

There was one thing about Mrs. Dawson that caused him pause. She was quite uninhibited in her manner of speaking. She said what was on her mind, though he was sure she still held back a great deal. Such a trait was not something one expected in a duchess. A duchess? He brushed the very thought away. Why would such an idea even cross his mind? She was his best friend’s widow, and between them, things would always have to remain honorable and platonic.

Knowing the dowager countess, he was quite sure Mrs. Dawson’s blunt manner offended her no end, as Mrs. Dawson had already shown she could stand up to her mother-in-law when it came to her son. Gabriel wondered how long it would be before she and the dowager countess had their first real falling-out.

She was truly unlike any woman he’d ever met, and this intrigued him. He needed to get a better understanding of this creature. He didn’t want to offend her with his choices in how the boy should be raised. Vincent’s status had changed the moment his uncle died, and Gabriel wasn’t sure Mrs. Dawson understood that.

He wondered if Lady Dorset hoped to remove Mrs. Dawson from her son’s life altogether so as to remove any uncouth American influence from her grandchild’s life.

“Is everything all right, Your Grace?” he heard her trill.

He focused on Lady Dorset, hoping she hadn’t caught him staring at the young woman.

“Yes, the meal is excellent as always,” he replied smartly. He turned to Savannah. “What are American dinners like, Mrs. Dawson?”

She put her fork down on her plate and contemplated her answer. He wondered if she was merely attempting once again to be as polite as possible and not offend the countess.

“Roland and I had simple meals most of the time. The only time we might have something as fancy as this would be if we were invited to dine with someone of great influence, a politician, for example.”

Gabriel caught the dowager countess eyeing her daughter-in-law in disbelief. “I would have assumed, given my son’s station, he would have dined elaborately.”

“No, ma’am, he preferred spending his evening dining with his wife and son.”

“The boy was allowed to eat with you?” Not waiting for a reply, Lady Dorset carried on. “That is quite irregular, and I can assure you he won’t be joining us every evening. Perhaps when he’s older, but for now, he should spend his time in the nursery. Don’t you agree, Your Grace?”

Fortunately for Gabriel, he didn’t have to get in the middle of the discussion, because the boy’s mother jerked her head around to face her mother-in-law.

“Vincent isn’t a child you keep hidden away in the nursery. He’s a young boy who’s been through terrible trauma in his short life. He’s lost his father and left the only place he’s known. It is confusing, and if he wishes to dine with us rather than in the nursery, he will do so.”

Savannah turned toward him. “I apologize for my outburst, Your Grace. You see I’m rather protective of my son. Especially right now.”

He shook his head. “No need to apologize, Mrs. Dawson. You know far better than we how traumatic all this has been for young Vincent. Exactly why I suggested the pony and lessons. To occupy his mind with something else.”

“Thank you, and I believe you’re correct that keeping him occupied is a step in the right direction.”

“Excellent. We’ll begin with his riding lessons.”

“His tutor will be arriving in the next day or two, so he’ll have his studies to keep him busy as well,” the dowager countess added. It was obvious she was not fond of someone speaking so frankly to her. This could prove to be quite interesting.

Savannah’s shoulders noticeably tensed. “Who is this tutor, and what is he going to teach my son?”

“A Miss Augusta Smythe will tutor him in French and history. His nanny will see that he learns to read and write correctly,” the countess replied.

“Vincent can already read and is quite proficient in his writing and reading skills for his age. He’s a very eager student.”

“In the ten minutes he visited earlier, I could tell he’s a smart and curious young lad,” Gabriel replied.

“Shall we retire to the drawing room? Brandy, Your Grace?” Lady Dorset asked.

“Of course. Then I must be on my way. I want to make sure I’m free to take Vincent to the stables to introduce him to his pony and instructor,” Gabriel replied.

He stood and followed the ladies into the drawing room. He would make this fairly quick. Parr was waiting back at Brook Fall, and they had a chess game to play.

Gabriel enjoyed a brandy while the ladies had tea. Most of the conversation was light. He asked Mrs. Dawson about her early life growing up in America. He’d never been, and since history fascinated him, he enjoyed hearing from someone who had actually lived there. Gabriel understood many old English customs and traditions were honored there still.

Her father was a lawyer, which was how she and Roland had met. He’d been invited to dinner, similar to this evening, and before they knew it, Roland was calling on her. Gabriel caught a glimpse of the dowager countess, who was looking rather perturbed but keeping her opinions to herself. He wondered how much of his life Roland had really shared with her. From her pinched lips, he doubted she knew much.

He rose to take his leave. “I’ll send my carriage around eleven for you and Vincent,” Gabriel said, then addressed Lady Dorset. “You’re welcome to come as well, Lady Dorset.” He smiled.

“I’m afraid I won’t be able to. I’m meeting with the vicar and a few of the ladies about autumn activities.”

“Another time,” he replied. Autumn was months away, and he wondered what she was really about. Certainly, it didn’t take months to prepare for something so simple.

He bid his dinner companions good night and exited to his waiting carriage. He couldn’t get Mrs. Dawson—Savannah—out of his mind the entire ride back to Brook Fall.