Page 1 of The Duke's Impossible Deal
One
“As long as nothing else goes wrong, everything should be fine.”
No sooner had the words left Lady Rowen Berrymore, the Dowager Countess of Irving’s mouth than there was an almighty crash and boom that made the entire house shake.
Of course, just perfect.
The storm outside battered against the windows, and trees bent and creaked ominously in the howling gale that seemed more like a crowd of banshees than a wind. Lighting flashed, and thunder roared, mingling with the sound of crumbling stone, brick, wood, and shattering glass.
She was sitting in the study of her country estate, Irving Manor, with her housekeeper, Mrs. Brown. They had just finished going over the accounts, and dire as they were, Rowen had been hopeful.
“What on earth was that?” Mrs. Brown’s eyes were wide.
“Given my luck? Something large has just crashed into the house—I suspect a tree or something similar.” Rowen massaged her temples with her fingertips, trying to steel herself to go and inspect the damage. “It was probably the old oak. You know, the one by the eastern…”
Her eyes widened, and the rest of her sentence died on her tongue as realization hit her.
“Oh God! The children! They are having lessons in the eastern library—right by the oak tree!”
She leapt over the desk and sprinted out of the study, Mrs. Brown lagging behind her. “But that oak is hundreds of years old!”
“Yes, and the gardener thought it might have some rot,” Rowen called over her shoulder, hiking up the thick fabric of her skirts as she ran. “Drat, bother, and damn! From what he said, I thought it could wait a few days until I received my next payment from my brother.”
“You could not have known about the storm.” Mrs. Brown panted as she struggled to keep up with her. “And funds are rather tight at the moment. Which is not your fault.”
“No, the blame for that lies with my late husband. If he had not frittered away our fortune, then I would not be reliant onwhatever I could scrounge together and the little money my brother could spare for us.” Rowen leapt up the stairs two at a time. “If anything has happened to the twins, I?—”
“I am sure they are perfectly fine, My Lady.” Mrs. Brown was clutching her side. “Please, My Lady, we must slow down. You will injure yoursel?—”
“I do not care! My children could be hurt or worse!” Rowen put on a burst of speed, leaving the older woman behind.
Lightning flashed again, and thunder boomed, the wind screaming like an angry banshee. The sound of the storm grew louder as Rowen climbed the stairs. Her heart beat like a wild thing in her chest, as though trying to free itself from her body.
She was nearly at the top of the stairs when she slipped on rivulets of water running down them. The wind hit her with the force of a battering ram, whipping her long, dark hair around her. Her stomach twisted and sank.
This is not good.
“Came right through the roof and the window!” a panicked feminine voice was saying. Rowen recognized it as the voice of the governess, Miss Harris.
Her heart clenched, panic making her blind to everything else as she skidded into the corridor and saw exactly what the governess was talking about.
A large oak tree sprawled through what had once been the eastern library. Its leaves and branches fluttered wildly in the wind, stone crumbled around it, and bits of roof were still clattering to the floor.
It was hard to see anything past the tree or hear much above the storm. The blood in Rowen’s veins turned to ice.
“Gigi! Alistair!” She made to dart past the two footmen who were consoling Miss Harris, desperate to get into what was left of the eastern library.
“My Lady!” Mr. Yately, her butler, flung himself in front of her and grabbed her arms. “You cannot go in there, it is not safe. The tree—it has brought down the roof and the wall, and I fear it will take the floor, or the wind will.”
“My children are in there—unhand me at once!” Rowen snapped, clawing at him as she struggled to break free of his hold.
She could see the swaying branches of the thick oak that had crushed a good portion of the eastern library beneath it.
What would that do to a child?
That was when she spotted a flash of blue fabric beneath one of the branches.
“Gigi!” She drove her elbow into Mr. Yately’s side, thrashing against him like a madwoman.
