and residents would notice what had transpired during their
travel.
Nathaniel’s carriage
slowed to a trotting pace. Noise now seemed to occupy the space outside of the
transport. They had arrived, and within a few hours, her friends would soon
join them. They came to a stop. His footman opened the door and waited for them
to climb out.
“Your Grace, once
we are settled into our suites it would be an honor to escort you to dinner.”
“The honor is
all mine, My Lord.”
Nathaniel tucked
her arm into his as they strode to the reception desk, the footman behind them
with their trunks. And now began the arduous task of damage control. They both
needed a miracle to survive the next few days.
* * * *
The hotel’s
servants were quick in getting Nathaniel settled. His valet, Evans, managed to
get his things in order and even saw to it that he was not disturbed by tedious
troubles. Setting the quill down and blowing a quick breath on the drying ink,
he re-read his missive.
Bartholomew,
follow these instructions with haste and be sure you keep with the utmost
discretion.
It
has come to my attention that the Duke of Downsbury holds a particular interest
in acquiring the estate of His Lordship, the late Duke of Brimley. I would like
you to find out exactly what he is after, his debts, his and his duchess’s
coming and goings, and anything else that might be of use.
You
should also be aware that he may sell information to the daily of a recent
dalliance I have had.
Please
notify me most urgently should anything appear. A certain respectable lady’s
reputation is at risk. She has already been through far too much grief for me
to allow any further damage to press.
~N.S.
Excellent. Now all he had to do was sit back and wait for society to unleash its wicked
forked tongues and wreak havoc. Nathaniel suspected he would not have to wait
long before his secretary replied.
“Evans! Come
quickly.”
His valet
attended, standing rigid, his hands clasped in front of him.
“Be sure this is
sent to my secretary of affairs, Bartholomew Winters, by express. It is
imperative that he receives this tonight.”
“Absolutely,
sir. I shall see to it right away.”
Upon
second thought… He rose from the desk. “One more thing.
Evans, has there been any movement from Her Grace’s room?”
Evans smirked. “None,
sir. As far as I know, things have been quiet since her dinner was served in
her rooms.”
“Very well. Now,
be gone.”
Lost in deep
thought over their indiscretions, Nathaniel pondered what Downsbury stood to
gain from blackmailing them. He would have to be in a bad way financially to
risk any kind of exposure into his affairs.
Taking a swig of
his brandy, Nathaniel returned to the desk to pen another note, this time to
his estate. His staff could use the time to prepare the manor for the
arrival—hopefully—of a new mistress. However, his mother ran the house with
such fluidity that no stone was left unturned.
When he was
young, no child was put to bed without her love and affection, and everything
was left in a state in which his father would be pleased. The late Marquess of
Stoughton had provided a firm hand in assisting his mother. But for the most
part, the man had participated in most of the games he and his siblings played.
One day he
aspired to be just like his father. Have a slew of children running through the
estate, Isabel chasing after them and hosting parties and tea. There was not a
dream about his future that did not include her. Isabel inspired him daily to
be the very best he could. If it were not for his fond memories of her, he
might have not made it back to England in one piece. Yes, soon her grace would
be the matron of his family’s estate.
Nathaniel stood
staring aimlessly at the fireplace for what seemed hours, pouring over his
thoughts of what was in store for them, before deciding to check on her
ladyship. How will my family react to her
becoming my wife? Surely his
travel.
Nathaniel’s carriage
slowed to a trotting pace. Noise now seemed to occupy the space outside of the
transport. They had arrived, and within a few hours, her friends would soon
join them. They came to a stop. His footman opened the door and waited for them
to climb out.
“Your Grace, once
we are settled into our suites it would be an honor to escort you to dinner.”
“The honor is
all mine, My Lord.”
Nathaniel tucked
her arm into his as they strode to the reception desk, the footman behind them
with their trunks. And now began the arduous task of damage control. They both
needed a miracle to survive the next few days.
* * * *
The hotel’s
servants were quick in getting Nathaniel settled. His valet, Evans, managed to
get his things in order and even saw to it that he was not disturbed by tedious
troubles. Setting the quill down and blowing a quick breath on the drying ink,
he re-read his missive.
Bartholomew,
follow these instructions with haste and be sure you keep with the utmost
discretion.
It
has come to my attention that the Duke of Downsbury holds a particular interest
in acquiring the estate of His Lordship, the late Duke of Brimley. I would like
you to find out exactly what he is after, his debts, his and his duchess’s
coming and goings, and anything else that might be of use.
You
should also be aware that he may sell information to the daily of a recent
dalliance I have had.
Please
notify me most urgently should anything appear. A certain respectable lady’s
reputation is at risk. She has already been through far too much grief for me
to allow any further damage to press.
~N.S.
Excellent. Now all he had to do was sit back and wait for society to unleash its wicked
forked tongues and wreak havoc. Nathaniel suspected he would not have to wait
long before his secretary replied.
“Evans! Come
quickly.”
His valet
attended, standing rigid, his hands clasped in front of him.
“Be sure this is
sent to my secretary of affairs, Bartholomew Winters, by express. It is
imperative that he receives this tonight.”
“Absolutely,
sir. I shall see to it right away.”
Upon
second thought… He rose from the desk. “One more thing.
Evans, has there been any movement from Her Grace’s room?”
Evans smirked. “None,
sir. As far as I know, things have been quiet since her dinner was served in
her rooms.”
“Very well. Now,
be gone.”
Lost in deep
thought over their indiscretions, Nathaniel pondered what Downsbury stood to
gain from blackmailing them. He would have to be in a bad way financially to
risk any kind of exposure into his affairs.
Taking a swig of
his brandy, Nathaniel returned to the desk to pen another note, this time to
his estate. His staff could use the time to prepare the manor for the
arrival—hopefully—of a new mistress. However, his mother ran the house with
such fluidity that no stone was left unturned.
When he was
young, no child was put to bed without her love and affection, and everything
was left in a state in which his father would be pleased. The late Marquess of
Stoughton had provided a firm hand in assisting his mother. But for the most
part, the man had participated in most of the games he and his siblings played.
One day he
aspired to be just like his father. Have a slew of children running through the
estate, Isabel chasing after them and hosting parties and tea. There was not a
dream about his future that did not include her. Isabel inspired him daily to
be the very best he could. If it were not for his fond memories of her, he
might have not made it back to England in one piece. Yes, soon her grace would
be the matron of his family’s estate.
Nathaniel stood
staring aimlessly at the fireplace for what seemed hours, pouring over his
thoughts of what was in store for them, before deciding to check on her
ladyship. How will my family react to her
becoming my wife? Surely his
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