A man can learn a lot sitting in the shadows outside the gentlemen’s clubs that line Saint James Street. On a recent night an argument among three particularly drunken pinks of the ton raised some interesting questions. They were discussing a certain duke who had been most conspicuous for his absence during the previous season. Well into the summer no sign of him had been found in any of the usual chains of gossip. It was as I he had disappeared.
One gentleman, an Honorable, if ‘honorable” actually applies to such a man, held forth at some length his belief that the duke had merely decamped to an inn in an obscure village in Nottinghamshire—Ashwell or Ashburn, or something—and was in the process of drinking himself to death. He swore he’d seen him there the previous spring.
The other two argued mightily no one simply walked away from a dukedom. They questioned whether the duke had been kidnapped, set upon by robbers, or met with some other misadventure. The baronet among them held out for death at the hands of brigand. The other argued for drowning and a hint of suicid
A foray among the rear doors of the clubs, discrete questions to servants, and a survey of some of the less savory gambling dens frequented by gentlemen brought the picture into focus to your reporter. Consensus among the fashionable of London is that the duke has met with a grisly end, and I must say that the stories became more gruesome with the telling. Many believe he has done away with himself, and the betting has shifted to how he died and where. Suicide is the leading bet. Some are even scouting the Thames for sign of a body but none has been found so far.
In summary, the Duke of Glenmoor is dead. He must be, for as the gentleman said, no one walks away from a dukedom.
About the Book:
Duke in All But Name, the Entitled Gentlemen Book 1
Is he the bastard or the duke?
Gideon Kendrick grew up as the despised bastard son of the Duke of Glenmoor. Exiled to the mines by his father, he has not only survived but thrived and prospered. He lives apart, wanting nothing to do with the duke, the estate—or anything in his past, except his younger brother Phillip, the new duke.
When Phillip disappears, leaving behind a letter asking his brother to care for his affairs, Gideon can’t refuse. Armed with authority making him the duke in all but name, he returns to the scene of his worst memories, facing vicious rumors and his family’s past. He also finds a grasping would-be heir, a steward with secrets, and a woman who stirs in him a desire he thought buried with his beloved wife.
Mia Selwyn lives in the shadows, an unwanted poor relation in the house of her viscount uncle. When her cousin’s hoydenish attempt to meet the supposed heir sees her drenched, ill, and in need of nursing, Mia is sent to care for her. Though warned to stay clear of the despised Kendrick, she is drawn into the dark undercurrents among the mismatched collection of residents and enthralled by the enigmatic Mr. Kendrick.
She quickly realizes he is not the monster he is rumored to be, twisted in body and mind. Instead, he is a resilient resourceful man with a deep love of family. As family, household servants, and villagers take sides on whether Gideon is the source of all the estate’s problems or its salvation, Mia and Gideon forge a partnership.
Together they struggle to unravel secrets and the tangle Phillip left behind, and in the process, find a future for themselves.
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The duke is dead! Or is he? Watch for Phillip’s story, Book 2, Duke in Name Only this spring.
The Entitled Gentlemen Series
The Tattler has received the most shocking news about two of society’s newest Duchesses. Everyone recalls the scandals that nearly brought down the Duchess of Stonegreave before her marriage to heroic Captain Richard Campion. Now it seems that Her Grace of Stongreave is not the only duchess with a murky past.
who is now Duchess of Margris.
Flynn, a romantic figure of dubious character, is rumored to have some connection with Margris’s family. Our source was unable to confirm any connection at the time of this report. But if such a relationship were true, is it possible that the gentlemen shared the current Duchess of Margris’s favors before whatever events might have forced a wedding with the duke? Only Margris’s pristine reputation stands as denial to such a rumor. His Grace is known to never have indulged in any affair in the ton or the demi-monde. He has throughout his life been tireless in his support and defense of Britain and the Crown. Only the Haverford family rivals Margris’s charitable efforts. And he and His Grace of Haverford have successfully sponsored several legislative reforms. Our country is a better place because of such men.
You may understand, then, dear Sir, why I am aflutter with excitement. One could ignore the handful of persistent mamas who inserted ambitious daughters into the party. An unattached earl—particularly one as attractive (dare I say it?) as the earl—is a marital prize they cannot ignore. One can hardly blame them, but one can ignore them. I say that because it quickly became clear that Mrs. Morgan had marshaled the ladies of the family–regrettably not all of them legitimate members—to depress those ambitions. No amount of sprained ankles, lost wandering into the bachelor bedrooms, rearranged seating charts, or manipulated teams for games escaped the vigilance of the earl’s female relatives. I was ready to believe that he actually was not in search of a wife. Almost.
Sir:
I am quite, quite distressed to add that my precious Wellington, an extraordinarily noble pug, has taken him dislike as well. The impudent young man accused my darling Welly of damaging his boots. I cannot believe poor Welly has developed a taste for leather. He has demonstrated no such affinity in the past. I am certain Mr. Clarke enticed him as an excuse to make a quick departure.
The Earl of Seahaven desperately wanted a son and heir but died leaving nine daughters and a fifth wife. Cruelly turned out by the new earl, they live hand-to-mouth in a small cottage.
Molly,
Sir Robert Benson’s life is in London. He fled Ashmead the day he discovered the man he thought was his father had lied to him, and the girl he loved was beyond his reach. Only a nameless plea from his sister—his half-sister—brings him back to discover he’s been left an estate with a choice piece of land. He will not allow a ludicrous bequest from the earl who sired him turn him into a mockery of landed gentry. When a feisty little termagant with flashing eyes—and a musket—tries to turn Rob off the land—his land—he’s too amused and intrigued to turn away. But the longer he stays, the tighter the bonds that tie him to Ashmead become, strengthened by the powerful draw of the woman rooted on land he’s determined to sell.