Page 5 of The Scandalous Love of a Duke
One of the ship’s crew had waved across a hackney carriage for his use. It waited on the cobbled dock before him, its oil lamp glowing into the now full darkness. He gave the address to the driver then climbed in. A few moments after he had clicked the brass lock shut, the carriage jarred into movement, rocking over the uneven cobbles.
He had not sent word ahead. There had seemed little point when he would arrive just as fast as any messenger.
He lifted the curtain and looked at the passing streets.
They had left the narrow backstreets of the slums near the docks and now they were progressing into the more affluent areas of London.
The months of his journey had given him time to become used to the idea of coming home. He had accepted this. But it did not mean he was looking forward to it. He would be weighed down by duty here.
He did not know if his family were in London. He was heading for his grandfather’s town house because it seemed the logical place to start. His heart drummed steadily in his chest as he travelled closer to the Duke of Pembroke’s town house. Was his grandfather alive?
The streets were quiet, virtually empty. Early evening in Mayfair was not a social hour. People would be dining now, before they went out. All John could hear was the sound of the carriage horses and iron-rimmed wheels on cobble.
A few minutes later the hired carriage drew to a halt and John looked from the window at his grandfather’s palatial town residence. It was set back from the road and guarded by iron railings, taking up one entire side of the square.
John had found it oppressive as a child. As a youth he had been impressed. As a man it simply seemed ostentatious.
John climbed out onto the pavement.
He had left his luggage at the docks to be sent on.
He paid the driver.
The man tipped his hat.
John looked up at the house as the hackney pulled away. The knocker was in place, someone was home.
He took a deep breath and then jogged up the pale stone steps. When he reached the top he lifted the lion-head brass knocker and struck it down thrice. Then stepped back and waited.
It was several moments before the door opened.
Finch, the man who had been his grandfather’s butler for as long as John could remember, stood in the hall, guarding the entrance. John watched recognition, and then shock, dawn on the butler’s face. He had never seen Finch’s upper lip show any expression before.
‘Good Lord – I mean, come in, my lord. You were not expected.’
‘No. I travelled at the same speed as any message, I saw no point in sending word. My luggage will follow. Tell me who is currently at home?’ He already knew his grandfather had survived, otherwise Finch would have addressed him as Your Grace.
‘Their Graces, the Duke and Duchess, my lord, and the Duke and Duchess of Arundel.’
His grandparents then, and his uncle and aunt. John’s heart pounded. Finch nodded to a footman, obviously sending him somewhere to announce John’s arrival. Suddenly there was a shout from above.
‘John!’
He looked up as his name echoed off the black and white marble beneath his feet and the decorative marble and plaster all about him, and saw his Uncle Richard, the Duke of Arundel, descending the wide curving stone steps briskly. This man had been like a father to John before John’s mother had come into his life. But he had aged. His hair was peppered with grey and his face more lined.
‘Thank God. We had no idea if you had even received Edward’s letter.’ John saw relief in his uncle’s eyes as he neared and then he smiled. ‘It is good to have you home, John.’
John met Richard at the bottom of the stairs, and took his hand to shake it, but Richard also gripped John’s shoulder. An uncomfortable feeling tingled through John’s nerves. He was unused to being touched. No one had held him in four years.
‘You have changed, John. Grown up, I suppose.’
‘Uncle—’ John began, only to have his speech halted by a wave of his uncle’s hand.
‘No Uncle, just Richard, now we are both men.’
John smiled. ‘Richard, it is good to see a familiar face. The journey was long and I have no idea of how things stand. How is the Duke?’
‘Things stand not well, John.’ Richard slung an arm about John’s shoulders and drew him to the stairs. ‘I will take you up. Your grandmother and aunt will be pleased to see you.’
