What the Groom Wants by Jade Lee Page A

stood vigil at the duke’s sickbed. Then, one by one, they had contracted the disease.
    The youngest heir to die had been a boy barely into his teens. The women weren’t mentioned by Mr. Pelley, but Radley saw the dates of each death written in a cold script as well.
    Then he counted the remaining females: four, not including his own sister and mother. Four women struggling to hold together a semblance of a life when everything—and everyone—around them had died. He shuddered at the thought.
    “I see you are looking at the female names,” said the elder Mr. Pelley. “I should like to draw your attention to this one in particular: Lady Eleanor. She’s a beautiful woman, trained since birth to be a proper wife, and she is your distant cousin, so there will be no concerns on that account.”
    Radley frowned, not understanding what the man was saying. What concerns? Why?
    “If I may, your grace,” inserted the younger Mr. Pelley. “What my grandfather is trying delicately to suggest is that there are a great many duties required of a new duke, but the most important one at the moment…” He cleared his throat then blushed a fiery red.
    “The most important,” picked up his grandfather, “is a continuation of the line. My grandson and I can take care of the most pressing matters of the estate. We’ve already hired a new steward and are sorting through the requirements of the land, finding new tenants, and clearing out the last of the sick or dying.”
    “Clearing them out?” echoed Radley, his voice dropping to a deceptively quiet tone. He knew just what kind of panic sickness could create. He’d stopped sailors from throwing the ill overboard out of fear that the disease would spread.
    “Er, yes, your grace. We’re moving them to a hospital and… um… burning the homes. You must understand that this illness is—”
    Radley waved him into silence. This was more than he could process, but he was not going to allow fear to rule even from this distant location. “Wall off the homes for the moment. Do not burn them until after we learn of their owners’ fates.”
    The younger man cleared his throat. “Begging your pardon, your grace, but you are the owner. You can—”
    “Not of their crockery, not of their clothing or their mementoes.” He rubbed a hand over his face. Bloody hell, this was too much. “Wait to find out if the people survive!”
    The elder Mr. Pelley inclined his head deeply. “Of course, your grace. You can rely on us. We will see to it immediately. But if I may be so bold…”
    Privately, Radley thought the man had been nothing but bold, but he didn’t quibble. He simply raised his eyebrows as he might to an arrogant sailor who still needed to learn his place. Sadly, he had the distinct impression that he was the one who had the most to learn.
    “Yes, your grace. As I was saying, Lady Eleanor is a beauty of the first order. We believe she should be your highest priority.”
    Radley frowned. “Is she ill? In trouble?”
    “Goodness, no!” gasped the younger Mr. Pelley. Then he flushed a bright red. “That is to say, the lady is all that is to be desired. And she would be an excellent choice for duchess.”
    It took a moment for his meaning to sink in. Duchess. As in his duchess. “You want me to wed this woman?”
    Mr. Pelley, the elder, beamed as if he were a rather slow student who had just grasped his sums. “The line has been all but decimated. You cannot imagine our terror these last weeks at the idea that you might have been lost at sea.”
    “Yes, I’m sure that would have put you in quite the quandary,” Radley drawled, but his sarcasm was lost on the two men.
    “But as you are not lost and are, in fact, a healthy man, it is incumbent upon you to see to the continuation of such a distinguished and lofty title. You have responsibilities now, your grace. The first of which is to secure an heir. Lady Eleanor is not only well suited to the task, but she can also guide