Page 1 of His Tempting Duchess

CHAPTER1

“Let’s get this over with, then. My father certainly did not make things easy, did he?”

Cassian Montague, the Duke of Clapton, threw himself into the chair with a sigh. He crossed one leg over the other and fixed the unfortunate solicitor with a stare.

The solicitor—a middle-aged man with the nervousness of a teenage boy—smiled quizzically, as if not sure whether it would be more disrespectful to mock the late duke or disagree with the new one.

“Indeed, it has taken several years to establish which of the documents was the late duke’s final will,” he said carefully. “But we believe we have reached a final accord. This document here”—he slid the item in question across the desk, tapping it with a fingertip—“is the true and final last will and testament of the late Duke of Clapton.”

Cassian eyed the will with disinterest. “Fascinating. I can’t imagine what he has to say. As his only son, I inherit the title, and there’s nothing he can do about that.”

Even so, he felt a frisson of nerves when the solicitor—he really should have asked the man for his name before now—opened the document and began to read it.

“I, Henry Montague, Duke of?—”

Cassian held up one elegant hand. “Spare me, please. Read it silently and then tell me the key parts, if you would be so kind.”

The solicitor missed a beat.

“Naturally, naturally,” he mumbled.

There was a few minutes of silence, during which Cassian picked at the lace at his cuffs.

At last, the solicitor cleared his throat and cast a nervous glance at him.

Was it Cassian’s imagination, or did the man look more nervous than earlier?

He narrowed his eyes at him. “Well?”

The solicitor cleared his throat again. “You, as your father’s sole heir, receive all of his money, property, etc.”

“Excellent.” Cassian rose to his feet. “If that’s all?—”

“It isn’t,” the solicitor interrupted. “A condition of your inheritance was added here.”

Cassian pressed his lips together. “Oh?”

The solicitor shrank a little in his chair. “To… to inherit any of the property and money, you must be married and have produced an heir of any gender by your thirtieth birthday.”

There was a long, taut silence.

Cassian stared down at the solicitor from his towering height. “Married and produced an heir?” he echoed softly.

The solicitor gulped. “It… it is within your father’s rights to add such a condition.”

Cassian kept staring at the poor solicitor. He could feel a muscle twitching in his jaw, his teeth clenched so hard he wondered vaguely if they might break.

“My twenty-ninth birthday is in a month,” he said softly. “Am I to marry and produce a child within a year?”

The solicitor gulped again. “I… I am so sorry, Your Grace. I?—”

Cassian held up a hand for silence, and the solicitor stopped his squawking at once.

“I see,” he murmured, mostly to himself. “I shall have to attend to it, then.”

He turned on his heel and began to stride away.

The solicitor recovered quickly, scurrying after him. “What do you intend to do, Your Grace?” he called.

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