Page 1 of A Duke's Lustful Riddle
Chapter 1
With his firm stance and dark colored clothes, the late Duke of Ashbourne looked the picture of heroism in his final portrait. The portrait was painted a mere two months before his passing and portrayed him well. In his living years, the duke had been a rather eccentric man. But in the painted portrait, it was as if he were trying to communicate something through his eyes and enigmatic expression. His portrait spoke a thousand words.
Gemma Whitmore stood beneath his painting in the hallway, casting a shadow on the wall, reminiscing about their last five years together. The duke had been more than a father figure to her since the passing of her parents, Richard and Lillian Whitmore, The Earl and Countess of Whitestone.
The duke became her guardian after their death, and had been a very steady presence in Gemma’s life. Without proper parents, Gemma had felt as horrifically lost as any young woman would tend to feel—made all the worse by the tragic deaths of her parents at the tender age of fifteen.
The duke’s death, six months prior, still tugged at her heartstrings. The bond that she had developed with him had been key to her continuing on after the tragic carriage accident that had taken her mother and father.
Truthfully, Gemma often wondered how far she might have fallen back then if the duke had not come around following the accident and offered to take her in and come to her aid. It could be explained in many different ways, but sudden death and loss was painful and permanent.
It had been so easy to lose hope in the world after her parents’ death. However, the duke’s act of kindness was something that carried great influence in her development as a young woman. It was the man’s generous nature that supplied the healing salve that her heart had truly required.
In the five years that she spent with The Duke of Ashbourne, discussions and hobbies had blossomed between the two of them, as he took to mentoring her and sharing his knowledge of history, travel, and antiques.
Gemma stared at the duke’s portrait, thinking about all of their greatest moments together; a montage of memories that now defined her in the present day. Without him, there was a somber energy to the estate, and its grounds, that continued to linger on as the months passed.
She remembered the day the duke took her in like it was yesterday. It was a week after her parents had died. The duke had come to her house extending the invitation to stay with him. When she had opened the door to see him standing there—every bit the gentleman with a warm and inviting visage—the weight of her loss began to disappear right then and there.
In that moment, her perspective shifted on being able to trust another adult and to rely on a stable man. Five years later, the duke became terribly ill. His subsequent death leading to her current position—gazing with emotion at the portrait of a great man.
Gemma knew and understood at that point, that her capacity to love others was, at times, her very undoing in life. In fact, it seemed to her that every person that she cared deeply for simply disappeared from her life, over and over, leaving her raw and untrusting.
“Lady Gemma,” a voice announced from behind her, startling her and interrupting her reverie. She turned from the portrait to see the tall figure of her butler approaching.
“Lady Felicity Rothchild is here for you.” The tall man’s eyes conveyed security and trust while his mouth remained smoothed in no particular expression.
“Thank you, Kingsley,” Gemma said to him with a flash of a smile that lit up her whole face.
Gemma took one last glance at the portrait and let out a deep sigh. She left the room and found Felicity waiting for her patiently in the drawing room. Felicity could instantly soothe anyone she came in contact with. Gemma could use that soothing today.
“Gemma. You look reasonably well,” Felicity said in her soft voice. Her gentle expression immediately put Gemma at further ease as she crossed the room to her longtime friend and confidante. She grasped her friend’s hands in her own and squeezed them gently.
Felicity’s eyes sparkled as she spoke.
“There is a pensive but beautiful luster to your eyes, my friend. Something tells me that you might have been taking in another ponderous moment in front of the duke’s portrait?”
“Ah, Felicity, you know me well. Indeed, I was just thinking about how the duke, upon taking me in, changed my life for the better. I miss him very much. Just as it was with my parents, I have again lost another whom I cared for a great deal, and my heart is heavier for it.”
Felicity, her voice normally soft spoken, sounded too deep for a lady such as herself and for such an occasion. “It happens too often, does it not?”
“Would you care for a walk in the gardens? I am in need of fresh air. My mind is haunting me with memories of what life was like when he was still with me.” Gemma smiled woefully at her friend.
Felicity nodded with enthusiasm. It warmed Gemma deeply that her friend was accommodating her desires, and she was grateful. There was nary an ill that could not be soothed by a long stroll among the most beautiful pieces of nature. The garden on the estate was just such a place.
Felicity and Gemma made their way to the back where the garden was. It wasn’t the most well- kept garden since the duke’s passing, but it was a desperately needed outdoor excursion.
“My dear Gemma, you rarely look undone on any given day. Even today, lost in thought, I do say with all sincerity that nothing robs you of your beauty and presence. I can see that you look as beautiful as any day, especially today. That dress is simply divine on you.”
Gemma glanced down at her pale pink dress. It was new and it was kind of Felicity to notice how it complimented her shape. Gemma’s auburn hair was hanging loosely around her shoulders. Distractedly, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
“Felicity, you are the breath of fresh air that I needed,” Gemma murmured as their simultaneous footsteps made their way down the garden path. Neither woman made any acknowledgement regarding the state of the grounds. In the silence, Gemma asked, “How was your carriage ride?”
Her voice held only a suitable amount of concern, but it was laced with a touch of her own personal worry, even if largely unfounded. Losing your parents to a simple carriage ride made one over worry. Felicity understood this rather personal concern, and she responded calmly.
“It was merely a short ride and brought me safely to your door.”
Gemma breathed a sigh of relief and smiled.
