Page 1 of Boxing With My Duke
Chapter 1
December 1816 ~ Bath, England
Carlton Coleman, the fifth Duke of Richmond, stared down at the ledger in front of him. He needed to prove to himself his changes had been worthwhile. When he inherited his father’s dukedom and, subsequently, his uncle’s gentlemen’s club, he made changes, primarily in how the third floor operated.
In his uncle’s time, the club had partnered with Madame Shanty, who supplied women to entertain the members. While Carlton realized this type of entertainment had been part of gentlemen’s clubs for years, he didn’t support the partnership and disliked the financial arrangement his uncle had made. Even so, ledger numbers had driven his decision. The madame had substantially increased her costs, and her sales had dropped.
His father used to say, “You can't expect loyalty from those people who would do anything for money.” With the numbers backing him, it wasn’t hard to eliminate her presence. However, having the numbers on his ledger to support his decision was even better. A few members disagreed with his decision and had been very vocal.
Carlton refurbished the rooms and rented them to members, demanding a level of decorum and requiring any female visitors to be escorted in through the backdoor by the member. The members well-received the change and had driven a marked improvement in profits. His move had not been to remove the access to women of pleasure; it had been to remove Madame Shanty.
Pleased, he leaned back and puffed his cigar. This modification had not been easy, but with a finite amount of space, it was important to maximize profits. The door to his office opened and his best friend, Damon Devereaux, the Duke of Danforth, strode into the room.
“Damon! This is a delightful surprise. I thought you’d be leaving for Scotland this week,” Carlton said, closing the ledger and securing it in the safe behind his desk.
“My duchess changed things for this year. We’re staying here and having the family visit us,” Damon said, helping himself to a brandy before taking a seat in front of his friend’s desk.
“I see you were reviewing your books—tedious work. I just concluded reviewing the books with Mr. Garmin, my man of business. I was hoping we could get some time in the ring and work off some of the torment of meeting with him,” Damon said. “He’s good at his job but has a bothersome habit of chewing his fingernails to bleeding nubs. Rather disgusting. I’ve asked him to stop, but I don’t think he even notices he’s doing it.”
“I’d be happy to introduce you to mine if you’d like. There’s no bloodletting in our meetings,” Carlton said, laughing.
“I may take you up on that,” Damon said with a smirk.
“How are the children doing with your governess-turned-duchess?” Carlton asked, reaching for the decanter. “And how is married life? Still mooning over your lovely Lydia, I take it?” he teased. Damon’s children had run off six governesses in under two years. When he returned with his family from their Christmas vacation in Scotland, Damon found his housekeeper and butler had hired Lydia as the newest governess. Lydia had a way with the children and turned the children’s destructive behavior around. And despite his best efforts to remain unmarried, Damon fell in love. Carlton was genuinely happy for his friend, even though he did not believe in true love.
“Lydia insists on staying involved with their lessons. She finally hired another governess but still visits the nursery—although, with her increased responsibilities, that’s lessening. She hired a widow who lost her husband fighting Napoleon. Mrs. Allen. Lydia posted an advertisement in her father’s mercantile.”
“Bold move—I like it. Her family probably knows the woman. Wise duchess you have there,” Carlton drawled. “When does she start?”
“Soon, I hope. I had to insist she find one. She agreed to interview the finalists. My housekeeper took charge of filling the position—which was a much better arrangement than my involvement. I believe she said it would be the day after the twelfth night. January six,” said Damon. “It’s the same date I gave Lydia.”
“Your luck changed when you met Miss Hammond.”
“Yes, it was also a reprieve for the frogs and lizards. The children stopped their pranks—and the frogs stayed in the pond,” Damon said wryly.
“Will your mother’s family join you from Scotland?” Carlton asked.
“I believe so. Lydia insists on handling the arrangements. Now that I’m married, I’m hoping Mother’s focus shifts to the children.”
“I get it. My mother does much the same with me,” Carlton agreed. “Frankly, I’m a large man. No offense intended—but I’m not ready for marriage, and if I were, the woman must be taller than most of what I see among the ton.”
“I get that. I’m six feet, and you tower over me” laughed Damon.
“Mother is tall, herself—and should understand my dilemma, but that isn’t the case. She’s always suggesting I escort her to some function when I know she’s planned an ambush of debutantes and their marriage-minded mamas.”
“Thank goodness my mother chose to live in Scotland for much of the year. I couldn’t imagine her living here. She could very possibly have joined the Golden Duchesses, as they’ve all known each other for years. Four well-meaning women who miss nothing. Interfering in one’s life is integral to their group’s mission,” Damon said with a shudder. “I enjoy their company but prefer it in small increments. Lydia was entertaining them this afternoon, so I welcomed them on my way out, hoping you are up for time in the ring.”
Carlton scoffed. “They are a force to reckon with. Last year, the duchesses suddenly needed to honor a commitment from their youth and move in together—one year after The Duchess of Featherly had hired Lydia—and just as you had an opening for a governess.” Carlton drained his glass.
“Yes. But perhaps I’m looking at them all wrong. Their meddling gave me a treasured wife and a loving mother to my children. As a foursome, the Dowager Duchesses are a societal force in the Bath community.”
“Please don’t let my mother ever hear you say that. She already thinks her meddling in my business is justified.” Carlton pushed back from his desk. “What do you say about going a few rounds in the ring?”
A frantic knocking sounded at the door.
“Come in,” Carlton said.
His club footman opened the door. Beads of sweat lined his forehead.
