Discouraging the Duke by Alexa Aston
Chapter Twenty-Five
Miles threaded his fingers through Emery’s as they walked out the front door. His carriage awaited him. Trottmann and Mrs. Jenson followed them outside, keeping their distance in order to allow the pair a more private goodbye.
Facing Emery, he took both her hands in his and said, “While I am gone, see that your parents’ things are moved from the cottage and that yours are placed in the duchess’ rooms.”
“I will feel so odd sleeping in Her Grace’s bed,” she said.
“First, you are soon to be Her Grace. Second, I hope you will only sleep in that bed for the few days I am gone.”
Her cheeks pinkened. “Are you saying you wish for me to be in your bed? I didn’t think that was the way of the ton.”
“I don’t care what they say. I want my wife with me—in our bed—every night of our marriage.”
Miles kissed her, despite the others around them. Emery’s parents knew of their betrothal. With Trottmann and the servants at the carriage witnessing this public display of affection, the news would spread like wildfire.
“Also, I have arranged for a carriage to take my mother to London later this morning.”
He hadn’t called the duchess by that name in a long time, either aloud or in his head. Still, now that he had knowledge of what she had suffered at Baron Haddoway’s hands, he did feel a bit of empathy for her. He had shared with Emery what his mother had revealed after they had made love at the cottage yesterday, warning her to avoid the man at all cost. She had promised not to go into Woodmorrow during Miles’ absence. He was still uneasy, knowing the beating he had given the baron brought enmity between the two men. Miles didn’t think Haddoway was above trying to take revenge. Legally, he could do nothing about the attack on his mother, especially after so many years. He would do his best to protect both her and Emery from such an evil man. He would speak with Trottmann and explain the threat. The butler seemed fiercely protective of Emery. If Trottmann alerted their footmen to be on guard, it would help. Miles couldn’t be everywhere at once but his house was full of servants who could keep an eye on his fiancée. If he believed the danger grew, he could always send to London for a Bow Street runner to come and give her an added layer of protection.
“I will have Mama stop by the dower house to see that everything runs smoothly,” Emery promised. “I don’t think Her Grace particularly wants to see me at this point.”
Miles had also told Emery that he had broken the news of their engagement to his mother and the bargain they had struck that would allow the duchess to live in the style she was accustomed. When Emery questioned whether another house should be rented for his mother to live in, he told her he wouldn’t budge. That the London townhouse was theirs alone and they would travel to it after their wedding in order to spend part of their honeymoon in town.
“I will miss you,” he said tenderly, placing a soft kiss on her lips.
“I will miss you more,” she declared. “The days will drag until you come home to me.”
He chuckled. “You will be busy planning our wedding. Just think—a week from today, we will marry.”
They had decided to give it a full week in order for him to see his old tutors and friends and allow time for any of them to make their way to Wildwood for the ceremony.
“I wish you would have given me your ideas on what you wished served at the wedding breakfast,” she told him.
“No, I leave all of that up to you and your mother. And Cook. I am certain she will have abundant ideas on what to serve. As long as there is cake, I will be happy. And champagne so that all our guests can toast my lovely bride.” He kissed her again. “I must go or I won’t be able to tear myself away from you.”
Miles released her hands and signaled his butler to come over as he climbed into the carriage. Briefly, he told Trottmann of the possible threat to Emery and that all servants were to keep a watchful eye on her and any sightings of Baron Haddoway.
“Of course, Your Grace. Miss Jenson will be kept safe.”
“Thank you, Thomas,” he said softly and the butler closed the carriage door.
As the vehicle pulled away, Emery blew a kiss to him.
Once they reached London, the first stop was his townhouse. He spoke with both his butler and housekeeper about his arrival in a week’s time with his bride and inspected both the duke’s and duchess’ suites, pleased that nothing remained in them from either of his parents. His mother’s things had been packed in trunks and awaited the address of where she would reside in the future. Miles promised to send word where that would be once he spoke with Fillmore.
Doctors’ Common was his next stop and he obtained the special license with ease, certain that being a duke helped expedite the process. His solicitor’s office was nearby and that became the next place he called.
Fillmore came out to greet him and brought Miles back to his office.
“I had no idea you would be in London, Your Grace. How may I be of service today?
“I am getting married next week.”
The solicitor beamed. “My heartiest congratulations, Your Grace. Who might your lovely bride be?”
“You have met her. Miss Emery Jenson.”
Miles watched Fillmore’s smile fade.
“Oh. I see. Well . . . I suppose . . . that is . . .”
“Is something wrong, Fillmore?” he asked sharply.
“No, Your Grace,” the man said nervously.
“Do you not think Miss Jenson an appropriate match for me?”
The solicitor winced. “Actually, Your Grace, if the truth be told? No. Not at all. She is an ordinary miss who . . . works for a living.” His nose crinkled in disgust. “Polite Society can be unforgiving.”
“Even to dukes?” Miles asked evenly, tamping down his temper.
“Well, dukes are known to do as they wish,” Fillmore hedged.
“I think Miss Jenson is perfect in every way. Beautiful. Charming. Intelligent. Compassionate. She will make for an ideal Duchess of Winslow.”
Fillmore nodded solemnly, obviously knowing who buttered his bread. “Yes, Your Grace. I am certain you are correct.”
“I would like to make a settlement on her. A rather hefty one. In case something happens to me before an heir arrives.”
“Good thinking on your part,” Fillmore complimented. “The next duke would not look favorably upon her. That is, if anything should . . . you understand that if it did . . .” Fillmore paused.
“Let’s get to it, man,” Miles urged.
An hour later, they had the details hammered out and all documents signed and witnessed. Miles had no intention of leaving this world anytime soon, but if he did meet an untimely death and his distant cousin, the next in line, became the new Duke of Winslow, it was important that Emery be looked after.
“I will take my leave. Thank you for your help in this matter, Fillmore.”
“Does Miss Jenson know you are here today?”
“She knows I am in London to purchase the special license but she has no knowledge of the settlements I wished to see to. Why?”
The solicitor frowned. “It’s odd.”
“What?”
“Well, Miss Jenson wrote to me recently and I replied to her letter only yesterday.”
“In what regard?” he asked. “Something to do with the estate? She has been managing it.”
“No,” Fillmore said, hesitating. “It was to inquire about employment agencies. I gathered that she was leaving Wildwood and would be seeking employment here in London.”
Panic swept through Miles and he took a deep breath to calm himself. He had no idea that Emery had thought about leaving Wildwood. He couldn’t imagine why she would want to do so. It was certainly a topic he would raise with her once he returned home.
“One last thing, Fillmore,” he said. “I would like the address of Lawrence Leavell.”
“Ah, the artist. How did your portrait turn out? Leavell told me that he had painted you as a boy and wondered what you were like as an adult.”
“Quite well. In fact, I wish to engage him again.”
“My clerk will have the address.”
Fillmore escorted him to the clerk, who gave Miles Leavell’s location, and he set off for the artist’s quarters.
He rang the bell and a servant answered the door. “Yes, my lord?”
“It is Your Grace. I am here to see Mr. Leavell regarding a commission.”
Though the servant looked in awe at speaking with a duke, she said, “Mr. Leavell is working now. No one disturbs him. If you will give me your card, Your Grace, I will see he receives it.”
“No, that won’t do. I am leaving town early tomorrow morning and must speak with him before I go. Where is he working?”
“On the top floor because the light is best there but . . . Your Grace! Please! Wait!”
Miles had pushed past the woman and started up the staircase. She scurried up and tried to block his way.
Sympathizing with her, he said, “You will not be in trouble for allowing me upstairs. Leavell will be pleased to see me. If for any reason he blames you for allowing the interruption—”
“He will,” she interrupted. “And then what’ll become of me?” she moaned.
“If you lose your position, then you may come to work at my London townhouse or one of my country estates.” Miles gave her his card. “Give this to my butler in town if it comes to that. I will let him know the circumstances.”
Her eyes lit with wonder. “Why . . . thank you, Your Grace.”
She stepped aside and he continued up three flights of stairs. He only saw one door and chose not to knock upon it, slipping inside instead. The strong scent of oil paints permeated the air.
Leavell was at work, his back to Miles, but he must have sensed the door opening.
“I have told you no interruptions. If you value your position, leave at once.”
“I forced my way past your servant, Mr. Leavell. She is not to blame.”
The artist turned. “Why, good afternoon, Your Grace. You turning up here speaks either very well or terribly poor about my work for you.” He set his brush down. “Which is it?”
“I was most pleased by both portraits,” Miles said. “So much that I wish to hire you again.”
Leavell smiled broadly. “I thought you would like them both. So did Miss Jenson. A lovely young woman. So accomplished in all she does.”
Hearing praise about Emery from this man stirred a bit of jealousy within Miles. “You speak as if you know her well.”
Leavell shrugged. “We did speak on several occasions. She is highly regarded by your staff. And by Your Grace?”
Possessiveness filled him. “She is. My regard is such that I have asked her to be my wife.”
Amazement filled the older man’s face and then he grinned. “Well done, Your Grace. It is the rare man in your position that would recognize the gifts Miss Jenson possesses—much less act upon it and offer marriage to her.”
“Emery is everything I want in my wife,” he stated confidently.
Giving Miles a knowing look, Leavell said, “I suspected you had feelings for her when we dined at Wildwood the night of my arrival. I am used to studying others. I sensed you cared for her.” He paused. “I suppose it is a good thing she chose not to take my advice.”
His words puzzled Miles. “What do you mean?”
“I shared with Miss Jenson how I developed feelings for one of my subjects many years ago. The daughter of a wealthy aristocrat and how it was impossible for us to be together. When I confronted Miss Jenson, Your Grace, she admitted she had feelings for you. I advised her to leave Wildwood because if she didn’t, those feelings might destroy her. After all, what lovely young woman would wish to see the man she loved bring home a bride from the ton. I had thought Miss Jenson had no chance at a lifetime with you.”
So that was why Emery had decided to leave. Thank goodness Fillmore had taken his time in replying to her letter, else she might have up and left, leaving him bereft.
“I am sorry you could not be with the woman you loved, Leavell. I, on the other hand, will be blessed to wed my choice.”
“It is a brave choice, Your Grace. Not all will look kindly upon it.”
“Do I appear to be a man who cares for the opinions of others?” he demanded.
The artist smiled. “Not at all, Your Grace. Now, what may I do for you?”
Miles said, “I was quite surprised that you could paint me without any sittings. I saw the sketches you did of me. They were excellent. Because of that, I wanted to see if you could do it again. This time, with Emery. I would like her in a gown which will complement her raven hair and eyes. I also want to commission a second one of her parents. Mr. Jenson is in poor health, you see, and I want her to have a lasting memory of him.”
“I gathered as much from my short stay at Wildwood. He seemed a bit vague at times. My father experienced something similar.” Sadness crossed Leavell’s face. “By the end, he didn’t know any of his family.”
“Would it be possible to paint these portraits without any sittings?”
Leavell considered it. “Yes, I believe I could. I will work on a few sketches, of course. Mr. Jenson will be the hardest to capture. Mrs. Jenson will be quite easy. She is a handsome woman and she and her daughter resemble one another. Miss Jenson will be the easiest of all. She made quite an impression upon me. When would you like these completed?”
“I wish them to be a wedding present. We will marry Friday next.”
Leavell frowned. “That is a bit soon, Your Grace. I am afraid I cannot be hurried.”
“You may take all the time you need, Mr. Leavell. I suppose I don’t have to give Emery her wedding present on her wedding day.” He thought a moment. “In fact, it will give me an excuse to give her jewels to wear at our wedding. She can think that is her wedding present—until you arrive with your two portraits in tow.”
“I will send word when I have completed them. I believe I can be finished in two weeks. Once I complete my current commission.” He indicated the painting he was working on.
“I am delighted to hear that, Leavell. Emery and I will come to London after the ceremony and spend a couple of weeks here. Why don’t you bring the paintings to our townhouse once they are completed? That way she can see them as soon as you have finished. I will have them sent to Wildwood after that.”
Miles offered his hand and Leavell shook it. “I wish you much happiness, Your Grace. Something tells me you and your duchess will find it in abundance.”