Page 3 of The Duke Who Loved a Widow
“A messenger arrived from Castle Montbury. One of the under-grooms rode post haste. He’s been on the road for four days, so I’ve sent him to Cook for some supper,” Mr Woodley informed him.
“How unusual. I’d best read this and reply immediately. I’ll take supper in the study.”
Robert waited till he was alone before opening the envelope, hoping his mother was well. She usually got on with managing the estate and let him live his life in London.
Castle Montbury, his childhood home, the place he had expected to live his life and raise a family. That was before Rosalind. Now he couldn’t think of Montbury without her memories, and none were good.
I gave my heart to Rosalind. I thought she loved me.
Since the loss of Rosalind he avoided contact with the Montbury estate as much as possible.
Enough, I won’t think about that time. It’s over.
He couldn’t avoid this letter, though. His mother wrote that Michael Morley, his land agent and the steward of the estate, had been taken grievously ill. No one knew the estate and the annual calendar of planting, harvesting, and maintenance as well as Michael.
His mother wrote that Peter, Michael’s nephew, was dealing with affairs daily, but they needed to make arrangements to replace Michael. Robert’s mother, Helena, Dowager Duchess of Montbury, didn’t ask for much from him. He lived his life mostly in town and went to Montbury for Christmas festivities or a shooting party in the summer. She had asked for help, and he would return, albeit with extreme reluctance.
He called to Mr Woodley, “I’ll be leaving in the morning for Montbury. Tell Grayson that I’ll need the carriage.”
“Is all well, Your Grace?” enquired Mr Woodley.
“Sadly not, Woodley. Michael Morley has been taken ill and won’t be able to resume his duties. I need to overseearrangements for a replacement. Her ladyship, the dowager duchess, insists I’m involved.”
“Michael Morley is a good man. He’s managed the Montbury estate as long as I can remember. That’s a big change.”
“Indeed, so I must go where I am needed. If I set off in the morning, then I should be there by Friday.”
Memories were just memories. Rosalind had jilted him, then jilted his younger brother Simon and married the elderly Duke of Wyndale. He had heard she was now a widow and becoming close to his brother Simon again. His mother had warned him there was a likelihood of an engagement between them. He had no desire to see Rosalind, Duchess of Wyndale ever again.
She accepted my proposal, told me she would love me forever, and then, within a month, she was engaged in a liaison with my brother.
Yet often in quiet moments, Robert remembered those perfect features, with blazing blue eyes, surrounded by a halo of gloriously long golden hair. If he imagined meeting a fairy tale princess in a forest, he knew she would look like Rosalind.
But Rosalind was long gone, and Simon rarely visited Castle Montbury. He needed to enjoy his childhood home again.He hadn’t seen his mother, sister Elinor, or nephew Frederick for many months.
The memory of Rosalind had kept him from his family for too long. It was time to return and ride across those wild northern moors again.
Chapter 2
Grey clouds hung heavily in the sky. No stars and no moonlight to guide them on the path to the stable.
Arabella felt a moment of terror as an owl swooped low, its screeching call piercing the night sky.
I need to keep calm. Henry needs to think this is an adventure. Breathe deeply; this is almost over.
She glanced at her tiny, eight-year-old son, who clutched his hobby horse, as they made their way through the darkened house. He knew this was different, but thankfully, his curiosity outweighed his concern about this early morning adventure.
“Where are we going, Mama?” came the small voice, close by her in the darkness.
She squeezed his hand, feeling the love for this tiny person, who had already experienced so much change and sadness in his life, flowing through her body and giving her strength.
“We’re on our way to visit my cousin in Yorkshire. You remember Aunt Grace and Uncle Joseph? They have a pony called Bertram.”
“I liked Bertram. Can I ride Bertram, Mama? Is Dash is coming with us? I don’t want to leave Dash,” the small voice broke the silence of the night.
“Of course, Henry. Dash is already in the carriage, waiting with Tabitha,” she said, reassuring Henry that his spaniel would join them on their journey.
They left the house by the orangery door, slipping into the darkness. They were leaving behind Farrington Hall, the home where Arabella had come as a bride and loved life with her beloved Edward.
