Page 1 of The Duke's Lesson in Love

ChapterOne

Spring,

London, England

“Where the bloody hell is my son?” Lord Gilleasbuig Wilkinson Quinn, Duke of Montdale House, slammed his fist against his solicitor’s wooden desk.

“Your Grace!” The solicitor, Geffrey Crawford stood abruptly, his chair falling against the stone floor with a distinctive thud as he scrambled to perform pleasantries. Pushing his round spectacles higher to perch on the bridge of his short nose, he began to neaten the pile of scattered papers littering his desk.

The solicitor and his father before him worked for the Quinn family. Though Gill rejected his parents’ excesses, meeting the solicitor had been a pleasant surprise. The man was hard working and lived simply, but his greatest asset was his knowledge of the Quinn family’s holdings.

“He is well, Your Grace, I assure you.”

“Your assurances are lacking!” He thundered, causing the other man to flinch.

“The boy… your son is safe at the orphanage. I visited Mrs. Headly before writing to you and Edwin is well.”

“Why is he not here”—Gill glanced around the office for any sign that a child inhabited the space and found no signs—“Awaiting my arrival?”

He straightened slowly, not entirely convinced by the solicitor’s reassurances.

Fear and guilt had choked him the moment he read the solicitor’s letter informing him that possible danger had reached his son. His rush to London surprised Gill but somewhere deep inside, he knew it was his and not the solicitor’s job to protect his son—which was why he was furious the boy wasn’t in the room. He uncurled his fingers, sneering as the pile of pages he had disrupted slid against his fist in a disobedient mess.

Gill turned away from the solicitor’s frantic attempt at order and took in the view of the city’s bustling streets. The window stretched from the ceiling, stopping almost at his hips, and was ajar. Stale air wafted into the office no larger than a guest’s chamber to mingle with the odors of coal from a fire long put out and warm wax.

The solicitor inhaled and released the air quickly. “Beg your pardon, Your Grace, but I did not expect you for another six days.”

Gill had had no intention to set foot into the city before his scheduled visit, except the solicitor’s letter fired a sense of urgency. Small incidents on his property were becoming too frequent and dangerous to ignore. The solicitor’s recent letter had only heightened his suspicions.

He clasped his hands behind his back. “Why did you not inform me of the other attempted kidnapping of the boy?”

The solicitor sputtered. “My apologies, my lord. With the Rookery nearby, I assumed it was a random act. Once there was a second attempt, I sent word to you. Mrs. Headly only recently made the connection herself that the boy might be in danger.”

Gill closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. He had intended to take the boy from the orphanage on his tenth birthday and see him attend Eton, a boarding school fitting his station, but at five years old, Edwin was attached to the women—no, he corrected. His son was attached to one woman—at the orphanage. A Black caregiver with smooth dark umber-brown skin. Her hair was always braided or under a bonnet and he wanted to sink his hands into the thick coils. He had stared after her as much as he had his son whilst observing from a distance. Her dedication to Edwin and the warmth in her eyes each time she looked at the boy drew him closer. He was instantly attracted to the woman who loved so freely. On occasion when he visited London, he had stood outside the orphanage and watched them play. Gill’s heart was not so black that he would deny the boy a sliver of love or compassion at his tender age, even if Gill no longer believed himself capable of expressing such emotions.

He had hoped to let Edwin have five more years of love and happiness before he stepped out of the shadows and into his son’s life. But this latest attempt suggested he was running out of time.

“Your Grace, are you certain the boy is in danger? No one but you and the boy’s mother know of his existence and you paid her well for her silence.”

A cold shiver ran along Gill’s spine. He was certain his aunt and his cousin knew of Edwin’s existence. Although he could not imagine his parents sharing their misfortune, as they had called his affair, his aunt was cunning when she set her mind to a task. And neither her nor her son thought he deserved the Dukedom. His teeth clenched

“I cannot risk it. He is my son.”

“What of your cousin and their mother? Lady Beatrice Quinn will not abide by your decision to claim an illegitimate child quietly. Not while her son is next in line.”

Every instinct warned the pair were behind his current misfortune. While Gill didn’t care about the Dukedom, he’d make certain his wealth was beyond Caleb’s reach.

“Add arson to the list of suspicious incidents,” Gill said, shocking an audible gasp from the man. “The front room and a bedchamber were destroyed, along with the furniture and part of the roof.”

Pigs gone missing were one matter, but when the culprit covered herbs and plants the villagers used as medicine with livestock blood, Gill knew those responsible aimed to spark fear. Since the livestock belonged to his tenants, it was only a matter of time before those living on his property believed his estate was cursed. “Until I discover who is responsible, even my cousin is not above suspicion.”

The solicitor shook his head, ruffling strands of neatly combed hair that was slicked backward atop his head. “Not even your cousin is foolish enough to destroy the property he wishes to inherit.” The man's eyes fixed on Gill. “Pardon my bluntness, Your Grace, but who else have you angered?”

“No one.” Gill cocked a brow. “Everyone adores me.”

At any rate, his tenants and employees did. Though he declined to remodel or repair the main house any more than necessary, each of his tenants had new roofs and repairs made to their homes as needed.

“What about those at parliament?”

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