Discouraging the Duke by Alexa Aston
Chapter Twenty-Two
Miles awoke early, filled with energy.
Filled with love.
He wouldn’t pretend to himself it was anything otherwise. He had found a woman he admired. Respected. One who was suitable in every way to be his partner in life and marriage. Thank God, Emery had finally come around to his way of thinking.
The time spent with her last night assured him that they were well matched in every way. He looked forward to making love to her in a proper bed—but all kinds of ideas flitted through his head. Making her his on top of his desk. In the library before a fire. On a blanket spread beside the lake. He wanted this woman every way, every day, in every place imaginable. They had only touched the tip of the iceberg last night. Miles planned to spend hours worshipping her body and giving his to her.
That meant, though, that he needed to speak to her father. Mr. Jenson needed to be made aware of Miles’ intentions toward his daughter. He planned to seek the steward’s permission for Emery’s hand today.
Crowder entered and found Miles whistling. He greeted his valet with enthusiasm.
“You are in excellent spirits, Your Grace.”
“I am indeed, Crowder.”
As the valet dressed him, Miles thought of where to take Emery on their honeymoon. London would certainly be a stop. She had never been and would be delighted by the city. He had enjoyed it for the short time he was in town after he returned to England upon his father’s and brother’s deaths. He had stayed in the ducal townhouse but slept in a guest bedchamber since his father’s things were still present in the one belonging to the duke. By now, the staff should have cleared away those items. Perhaps Emery would want to make over much of the London residence. They could go there upon occasion but he believed they would both be happiest in the country.
He would also see that she ordered as many gowns as she liked while they were in town. He wasn’t going to leave the dressing of his wife to the Woodmorrow seamstress. Nothing but the best would do for his Emery.
His Emery.
Miles hoped she wouldn’t want a long engagement. Even the reading of the banns would take almost a month. Perhaps he could convince her into wedding him with a special license. He would need to ride to London to purchase it but it would be well worth the time. He only wished his fellow Terrors could attend the ceremony.
An idea occurred to him.
Finch could marry them.
It would be a lovely excuse to see his old friend and have one of his brothers-in-arms present as Miles wed Emery. He would settle a date with her today and then write to Finch. His friend would be surprised at the speed with which Miles wished to wed. Especially since he had only written once to each of the Terrors, while he had been away at Marblewood. He had mentioned Emery briefly in these letters but the Terrors would have no idea how serious Miles was about her based upon what he had written.
It didn’t matter. She was to be his. They would be husband and wife, hopefully sooner than later, and he would introduce her to each Turner Terror with pride.
Miles entered the breakfast room and ate a hearty meal, fortifying himself for the upcoming discussion with Mr. Jenson. He still felt a little unsettled in the steward’s presence. Jenson wasn’t a talkative man. Perhaps he was shy and that is why Emery often stepped in to answer for her father. Well, he would have to listen to Miles today and respond accordingly.
He finished with breakfast and perused both the newspaper and the post Trottmann brought. His only interest in the news was what was said of the war. More than anything, he longed for it to end and his friends to come home. Though the three in the army would remain career officers once the war ended, they would be granted leave at various points during their service. Since none of them had homes to go to, he wanted them to always feel welcome at Wildwood.
He couldn’t put it off any longer. It was time to visit with Jenson and claim Emery’s hand. Miles left the breakfast room, surprised at the nerves he felt. Of course, marriage was a huge step. He didn’t see any way that Jenson would turn down his request, though. After all, Miles was the Duke of Winslow.
Arriving at the door, he took a deep breath and knocked. He waited a moment but his steward didn’t call for him to enter. Curious, Miles knocked again. Once more, no response, so he pushed open the door.
Jenson sat behind his desk, staring dreamily into space. Miles entered and closed the door for privacy.
“Mr. Jenson, it is imperative that I have a word with you.”
The steward didn’t acknowledge his presence.
“Jenson,” he said sharply, “I wish to speak with you.”
His estate manager’s head turned. Miles saw nothing but emptiness in the eyes. No recognition. Nothing.
He stepped closer. “Jenson, are you all right, man?”
The estate manager blinked slowly. He frowned. “May I help you?” he asked.
“Very much so,” he said, irritation filling him.
Then he saw a lost look appear in Jenson’s eyes. One of panic. The steward’s eyes began to dart about the room.
“Jenson?” he asked, keeping his tone soothing. “Is something wrong?”
“Who are you?”
“I am the Duke of Winslow. You are at Wildwood.”
“Who? Why am I here?”
“You are my steward.”
Jenson frowned. “No. His Grace is old. You are young. I want Emery. I want my wife.” He began to weep and placed his head upon folded arms atop his desk.
Miles stood there a moment, baffled by the man’s behavior. It was as if Jenson knew nothing. Who he was. Where he was. What he did for a living.
How long had this been going on?
His gut told him for some time. And that Emery knew and had hidden this from him.
Miles placed a hand on the sobbing man’s shoulder. “It’s all right, Mr. Jenson. You just sit here. I will go find Mrs. Jenson and she will bring you a cup of tea. Tea always makes everything better, doesn’t it?”
The older man lifted his head. “Yes. Tea. That would be lovely.”
Then as abruptly as he’d burst into tears, the steward calmed. He opened a ledger in front of him and ran his finger down the page as if perusing it.
“What are you doing, Mr. Jenson?” he asked.
“Looking over these figures, Your Grace. Emery usually takes care of this. I just want to make sure she’s done a good job.”
“Emery always does a thorough job, no matter what the task,” Miles said.
He didn’t know if Jenson heard him because, once more, the steward turned and gazed out into space. Miles slipped from the room.
It was time to have a talk with Mrs. Jenson.
Then Emery.
Miles left the office, closing the door. He paused, collecting his thoughts before he approached Mrs. Jenson. He had a thousand questions of the woman and hopefully would get satisfactory answers from her.
He started in the direction of the housekeeper’s office when Trottmann stopped him.
“If you are available, Your Grace, Mrs. Jenson would like to have a word with you.”
This was interesting.
“Of course. Send her to my study.”
Miles went there and sat in the chair behind the massive desk. For a moment, he wondered if Garrick Notley, the ancestor he favored, had also used the same desk. He needed to get back to Garrick’s journal, to see if he could unravel the mystery of why the former duke’s portrait had been removed from the picture gallery and left in an attic corner for several decades.
A rap sounded on the door and Miles bid Mrs. Jenson to enter. If he wanted to see how Emery would age, he didn’t have to look further than her mother. The two women favored each other tremendously, though Mrs. Jenson was much shorter. Emery’s height had come from her father.
“Thank you for seeing me, Your Grace.”
“Not at all, Mrs. Jenson. Please, have a seat.”
The housekeeper took the chair in front of the desk and immediately said, “I have a request to make of you, Your Grace. My husband’s health is poor. He needs to retire as soon as possible. Since the cottage we reside in comes with his position, I was hoping you might consider leasing the Hamilton cottage to us.”
He knew the one she spoke of. “It’s rather small for the three of you, isn’t it?”
“Size doesn’t matter,” she said, dismissing his comment. “I know this doesn’t give you much notice in regard to Wildwood needing a new estate manager. Emery has mentioned a few of the stewards she has corresponded with at your other estates. Perhaps one of them might fill Mr. Jenson’s shoes.”
“How long has Emery been running Wildwood on her own?” he asked bluntly.
The housekeeper considered his question, her composure intact. “Several months now. Why do you ask?”
“I just came from trying to hold a conversation with Mr. Jenson. It was impossible.”
Her eyes brightened with unshed tears. “Yes, it is getting worse. It started slowly. We barely noticed. Emery has always been eager to take on more responsibility and she began doing so. Then she told me she did so because her father couldn’t think properly anymore.”
She paused. “My husband had become quieter over the last year, Your Grace. Sometimes, he rarely spoke when we reached home at night. We both put in long hours at Wildwood. I thought it was enough to have his companionship as I read by the fire. Then I, too, started noticing little things. He would seem to forget how to do a simple, ordinary task. Or he couldn’t recall commonplace words. The problem has grown.”
“I should have been informed of it the moment I arrived,” Miles said sternly.
“You are correct, Your Grace. I am sorry both Emery and I kept this from you. It’s just that your brother had no interest in the estate. He was going to head back to London soon with your mother. Emery is a very clever woman. She could have kept things running on her own until . . . until my husband could no longer work at all . . . or he passed away. We both worried if Mr. Jenson lost his position that I, too, would be forced to go. We assumed, incorrectly, that you would be like your brother and that you would be off to London for the remainder of the Season.” She shrugged. “After all, a duke needs a duchess to provide him with an heir.”
“I don’t need a London Season to find a bride. I already have the perfect candidate.”
Her mouth hardened. “Surely, you cannot mean Emery.”
“I do. She is the reason I went to visit with Mr. Jenson. I wished to ask him for permission to wed his daughter.” Miles shook his head. “He didn’t even know who I was or where he was.”
She bit her lip. “Then it has truly gotten bad.” Mrs. Jenson rose. “I am sorry to have troubled you, Your Grace. I apologize for any deceit and take full responsibility. I will go and write out my resignation and bring it to you.”
“And why would you do that, Mrs. Jenson?” he asked.
She looked taken aback, her composure finally cracking. “I don’t think you are the type of man who would lease a cottage to someone who has lied to you.”
“I am not fond of lies or liars, Mrs. Jenson. What I am fond of is your daughter. I love Emery.”
There. He’d voiced it aloud. Miles knew it was true and wanted Emery’s mother to understand, as well, else she would never turn her daughter over to him.
“You love her, you say?” Sadly, she shook her head. “Love is rare among the ton. Are you not merely infatuated with my girl? She is a great beauty.”
“Emery is more than the sum of her looks,” he said testily. “She is kind. Decent. Intelligent. And most likely the best estate manager I could hire.”
Now, the housekeeper looked taken aback. “You would place her in that position?”
“I would have her run Wildwood with help. As my duchess, she would have other responsibilities which would take time away from estate management. Such as bearing our children.”
Wonder now filled her eyes. “You really do mean to wed her?”
He rose. “I am not my brother, Mrs. Jenson. I know he made some play for Emery. She vaguely referred to this. I am a man of honor. And by God, I plan to make Emery my wife. I’ll either have your blessing—or I won’t. Regardless, my destiny lies with her.”
Mrs. Jenson smiled. Relief flooded her face. “Then you very much have mine and Mr. Jenson’s blessing, Your Grace. I am only sorry that he will most likely be unaware of the situation. Know this—he would approve of the match. You are a good man. I know things were laid at your doorstep from when you were a child and—”
“I have spoken to Emery about them. She knows I am blameless. It was Ralph who pulled the trigger and killed Tony. Not me. Never me.”
“I see.”
“Do you know where I might find her? I’d like her to know we have spoken. I’m usually a patient man, Mrs. Jenson. But not when it comes to Emery. The sooner we wed, the better.”
She smiled. “I sent Emery into town to pick up some supplies. She was also going to call at the dower house and see if they needed anything.”
He shuddered. “I hope she did not see the duchess while she was there. That woman is a viper.” He thought a moment. “On second thought, I believe I shall call there now and let her know there is to be a wedding. She won’t want to come—and she will not be invited. I think it’s time to pack her off to London. I will see that it takes place by the end of the week. Inform the servants there that they will be returning to the main house because the duchess will move to London.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” She turned to leave and he stopped her.
“Mrs. Jenson, the cottage will not be necessary. As my in-laws, you and Mr. Jenson will live here. You may choose to nurse him or remain as my housekeeper. The choice is yours.”
“I am grateful to you, Your Grace. I enjoy being busy. I would prefer to keep my position. I can have the maids or a few footmen rotate throughout the day to keep an eye on my husband.”
“Very well. And when we are with family, please call me Miles.”
Her eyes widened. “I don’t think I will be capable of doing so.”
“Winslow?” he asked.
She grinned. “That is a possibility.”
After she left, Miles decided he would go now to speak to the duchess. The almost dowager duchess.
Then he would find Emery and make sure they set a date for their wedding.