Page 1 of The Undesirable Duke
Chapter One
“What is this?” Samuel Fletcher, Duke of Yarmouth’s hazel eyes flashed in anger as he held the recently opened letter up high for all to see, despite only a single male servant being present. “Speak,” he ordered.
“I am not certain, Your Grace. It was a letter delivered from London.”
The servant’s voice was shaky, and he trembled in his boots as the Duke stared at him, his eyes narrowing.
“Thank you. Pardon me, it’s not your fault that the letter is not what I wanted. You are dismissed.”
With an absentminded gesture of his hand, he dismissed the servant who had delivered the letter to him. The servant left the room as fast as his legs were able to take him, and the door slammed behind him.
In Samuel’s hand was a newspaper clipping of an article, the reckless words of which would certainly raise more than a few eyebrows. And it probably had already, he feared, as he continued to read. Someone was pitching the gammon, since not a single word in the article was accurate. The author, whoever it was, certainly did not have their facts straight. Samuel turnedhis attention to the letter which had enclosed the article, and immediately recognized his good friend’s penmanship. His eyes darted across the page as he devoured the words on each line. His face tensed, his brow furrowing deeply, leaving creases on his skin.
“I do not believe this,” he muttered, throwing the letter onto the desk before him.
“Whatever is the matter, Your Grace?”
While he read the letter, Samuel had completely forgotten his friend’s presence, and now, after a momentary start, he exhaled slowly. He raked his fingers through his dark brown hair with pure agitation and stared at his friend, Lord Felmar. Despite Samuel’s semi-hermit state in Cornwall, he and Lord Felmar were good friends. Hopefully, his friend would forgive his manner - it had been a long while since such fury had coursed through him, but this was both unacceptable and maddening. An unknown author had written an article in a London newspaper, claiming the most preposterous things about him.
Lies. All lies.
Who would believe such Canterbury tales? The residents of London, of course. They were starved for gossip and rumors during the Winter months, for, since the Season had come to a close, there was not much for the gossips to do.
Samuel had been residing at his country home for nearly two years, come this winter, and had not set foot outside Cornwall during that time. How on earth could such lies be taken as the truth? Of course, he was also well aware of how things operated in London. The rumor mills churned, regardless of what time of the year it was, but he had not expected to be involved in a rumor.
He turned his attention to a large portrait on the wall opposite him. His late father stared tight-jawed at him, asthough he was already filled with disappointment at his only son.
“What an utter pack of lies!”
Lord Felmar appeared befuddled by Samuel’s statement and tilted his head to the side.
“I beg your pardon, Your Grace?”
“It appears that someone, who is nameless at this point, is intentionally spreading scandals throughout London about me.”
“I still do not follow.”
Samuel handed the newspaper snippet to Lord Felmar, and after reading it, Felmar’s brows shot up.
“Your Grace, what do you intend to do about this?”
“I am not quite certain,” he said and chuckled. “At first, I was infuriated, understandably. But then, I became amused that someone would publish such things about me. The idea that I retreated to Cornwall because I had overextended myself is ludicrous. I have never enjoyed gambling, and I am far from financial ruin.”
“And the claim of you frequently visiting undesirable haunts?”
Samuel glanced at Lord Felmar and raised his hands.
“I may be a man with desires, but certainly not these kinds. I am not my father’s son in that regard. Thankfully.”
“What will you do about this issue, Your Grace?”
Samuel smiled solemnly.
“I feel the need to unmask this anonymous writer.”
“And how will you do that?”
A grin curled across Samuel’s mouth, and his eyes sparkled in the sunlight that came from the large window that overlooked his country estate gardens. The late Duchess of Yarmouth had loved the gardens’ lush greenery and immaculately kept flower beds. Although the gardener kept them still pristine, no one had set foot in those gardens since the Duchess’ passing. Theywere not truly appreciated by the eyes and hands of those who maintained them. Samuel dared not enter the gardens, for there, the memories of his mother which still lingered in his heart would overwhelm him. He recalled sunny days when he and his mother would enjoy delightful picnics together, laughing and being happy. Those memories would remain forever with him, although he supposed that, with time, their intensity would fade, and the reminder of her passing would not be so painful.
