The Duke Goes Down (The Duke Hunt #1) by Sophie Jordan

“Carter,” he returned. “Evening off?”

“Indeed, His Grace retired early for the night.”

“Ah, good for you. I hope the new duke is treating you well.”

“Oh, yes, of course.” Carter nodded agreeably, but Perry knew if the new duke was not treating him well, Carter would not be the one to say it. He took his position as valet very seriously and never carried tales. Just one reason he was excellent at his job.

Carter’s gaze flicked to the front of the building. “I cannot tell you how nice it is to have such a fine establishment to come to when I’ve the free time. You’ve done wonders here.”

“Well, thank you. That was the goal. We wanted the tavern to serve as a comfortable refuge. I’m glad you’re enjoying the place.”

“Indeed.” Carter continued to nod agreeably. “I am so very glad you’ve found your footing and met with success.”

Perry grimaced slightly, well aware that when they had last parted his valet likely thought he would end up dead in a ditch. He had not been in a good place at the time.

“Well, I am late for dinner. It was good to see you, Carter.”

“Ah, yes, of course. Please send my regards to your kind wife.”

“Indeed, I will.”

Carter’s gaze turned very thoughtful. “I was so very glad to hear of your marriage to the vicar’s daughter. Whoever would have thought that when . . .” His former valet’s voice faded. Clearly he did not know how to speak of Perry’s less than blissful past.

“When I lost everything?” Perry finished for him.

It was the simplest way to characterize the events that had transpired nearly two years ago. That time had been abysmal.

Carter ducked his head and nodded rather sheepishly.

Perry clapped him on the shoulder. “In truth, it was the best thing that ever happened to me.” He gestured around him, letting the vague motion encompass all the riches he had in life, both the physical and intangible.

Carter beamed. “I’m so very happy for you . . .” His voice faded yet again and Perry knew he still struggled with how to address him.

“Call me Perry,” he provided.

“Perry.” Carter nodded, looking much relieved.

Perry gave a final nod and motioned for him to continue inside the building. “Have a good evening.”

That said, Perry stepped forward and continued on, humming lightly under his breath as he strolled through the village amid the settling dusk.

The vicarage soon came into view ahead of him, the setting sun above the treetops gilding the ivy covering the front of the house and setting it gloriously afire.

Home.

He was aware that it would not be home forever, and he and Imogen had not so distant plans to build a house. His father-in-law was beginning to entertain the notion of retiring from his post, so plans were in development. He and Imogen were already eyeing a certain property, and had made an appointment with a London architect so that they could begin on the designs for the house.

For now though, the vicarage was home.

Any place with Imogen was home. They had each other, and that was enough. More than enough. It was everything.

Together, they had everything.

He stopped on the walk leading up to the front door. The parlor drapes were pulled open and for a moment he stopped there to study the happily domestic scene through the parlor window.

His father-in-law sat in his wingback chair and Imogen fluttered about the room with her usual energy. She draped a blanket over her father’s lap and then poured him his claret from a nearby tray.

As she straightened he was granted the view of her slightly swelling belly. Her hand went there. Her fingers curled around the gentle mound protectively, as though assuring herself that their babe was indeed tucked safely below her heart.

Their family was growing and Perry was beside himself with joy.

They had each other and that was more than enough, but now they would soon be blessed with even more. There seemed to be no end to the riches in his life.

Imogen’s gaze alighted on him through the window and a wide smile curved her lips in happy greeting.

He smiled in turn. Lifting his fingers to his lips, he pressed a light kiss there and then carried it to her on the air with a float of his fingers.

Her smile beamed brighter and she waved him in with an eager hand.

Grinning, he hurried forward and entered the house.





About the Author




SOPHIE JORDAN grew up in the Texas hill country where she wove fantasies of dragons, warriors, and princesses. A former high school English teacher, she’s the New York Times, USA Today, and internationally bestselling author of more than thirty novels. She now lives in Houston with her family. When she’s not writing, she spends her time overloading on caffeine (lattes preferred), talking plotlines with anyone who will listen (including her kids), and cramming her DVR with anything that has a happily ever after.

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By Sophie Jordan