Page 13 of The Duke's Lesson in Love

ChapterFive

Lord Caleb Forster, Baron Middleton.

“Why is he not dead?” Caleb Forster Middleton demanded, his fingers tightening around his now empty glass.

“All good things in due course,” his mother, Lady Beatrice Middleton, cooed.

Caleb grunted. He had waited long enough to get back at his cousin and had done everything his aunt, Lady Jasmine Quinn asked. He completed all his schooling and followed all her ridiculous rules. Even dangled the prospect of a scandalous love in front of Gill in hopes of his aunt and uncle disowning him.

Aunt Jasmine had been furious at her son, banishing the servant Gill claimed to love from Berwick. However, when it came to his cousin, his aunt had seen Gill flogged and sent to his room as if the faux pas could be corrected with harsh measures.

A testament to his patience, Caleb waited years for his aunt and uncle to revise their will, naming him the beneficiary of their wealth since he couldn’t inherit the title. At the reading of their wills, Caleb discovered he’d inherited nothing after his aunt and uncle’s deaths, all because their promises were not put in writing.

Curse it all to hell.

“I am tired of waiting.” He slammed the glass he was holding against the bar top.

“Darling.” His mother rested her embroidery on the lap of her elegant moss-green dress and stared at him. “Why do you not put down the brandy and come sit beside me?”

He grumbled, but did as she asked.

“I gather, setting fire to the cottage did not work?”

“By all accounts, he should have been on the roof inspecting the damage after the last storm. My man says Gill placed the family at an inn because the cottage roof was leaking.” Caleb shifted in his seat. “The inside was doused in oil that very night.”

“Your man did not watch him climb up the ladder?” Her brows pinched.

“He claims he did. Said the Duke must have climbed down a second ladder on the other side of the cottage as he lit the fire.”

“Hm!” Beatrice huffed. It was a brief sound that carried the weight of her annoyance. “You are positive this man of yours will not implicate you?”

“As long as he is paid, he does as I ask.”

Beatrice shook her head and picked up her embroidery. “My sister was always a sneaky one. Ambitious. Her husband even more so. I was happy when they promised to pass on their inheritance to you. I only wished they had followed through. Lord knows that son of theirs cares for none of it. Not the wealth, the title, or all he could gain with proper alliances.” She set the needle down again. “But I did wonder if all her promises to you were merely to set a fire under her son.”

“You never voiced your concerns, mother.”

“Don’t be a dunce, son. Why would I object?” She spooled wool around the tip of the needle. “My son was given the best education, attended the finest schools and rose above his father’s lowly status. Thanks to your aunt, you were set out into polite society far above the station of a baron. Every peer in Berwick was curious of the former Duke and Duchess lavishing attention on us, inviting us to all the social events.”

“Once Gilleasbuig is gone, you and I will live the lives of their Graces, the Duke and Duchesses of Montdale House. All of London, not just Berwick, will know who we are, mother.”

“Gill will be more suspicious now.” Her needles moved faster. “And when you inherit the lands at Montdale House, burnt cottages will not replenish our coffers.”

“The cottage and the pig’s blood were meant to spread fear. Not to fret, I will not destroy our future home.”

“What about the boy? Gill being alive is one matter. A child prolongs his reign. A wife gives him hope, and he cannot be allowed to have either.”

“I have hired another man. This one is more skilled and willing to do whatever it takes.”

“Do you think that’s a good use of our funds?”

“Do you expect me to sully my hands, mother?”

“Of course not. The Prince Regent will not hear your petition for the Dukedom with blood on your hands. The man will likely give Montdale—”

Caleb faced his mother. His teeth clenched tight enough to chip. “If I cannot have what is promised,” he hissed. “Then no one can.”

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