Page 2 of The Duke of her Dreams

“Grew long? Do I need to get there immediately?”

Eloise nodded and pulled her wool chemise from the side of the bed. “I even heard that it has killed some people. You should see Her Grace as soon as you can.”

Theodore felt fear travel down his spine. His grandmother was always one to put up false ploys just to make him come to London. But now, everything felt more real than previously. He had lost his parents at a very young age. He could not afford to lose his grandmother too.

Reaching for the rope by the side of the bed, he rang for Perceval once again. While he waited for his steward, Theodore ran his mind over the different things that would need taking care of at the Wallington Estate while he was gone.

“Your Grace,” Perceval said, hammering him to reality once again.

“I want you to prepare the carriages with our fastest horses. Call Frederick to watch over things while I am gone”,” he ordered. “Then, I want you to send a message to my brother, Sebastian, that we’re coming to London.”

“London, Your Grace? Is something wrong with the Dowager Duchess?”

Theodore shook his head wistfully, bringing his emotions under control. “Nothing is wrong, Perceval. Just bring the carriages along.”

The steward nodded and soon his footsteps were receding down the stairs. Theodore huffed a breath and turned to the table once again. The paper was still there, folded crisply. Somehow, the red Wallington seal looked like blood, and it only made him terrified.

“Your Grace,” Eloise said and trailed a finger across Theodore’s chest. “Her Grace is going to have the best physicians attending to her. I even heard that your brother is one of the best. You need not worry.”

Smiling, he reached for his discarded clothes and searched for Eloise’s payment. Sebastian was his brother and probably the best physician in all of London, but they were not really on talking terms because of a long-standing difference in ideologies. A painful memory flashed through Theodore’s mind, but he pushed it back to the farthest reaches of his mind so that he could forget once again.

Theodore did not return her coquettish smile. Instead, he handed a small bag of coins to her. His heart was bubbling in his chest, and he could hear his pulse in his ears. Unless he could see that his grandmother was hale and hearty, there was no way he would not be worried.

“I am going to be away for at least a week. I will send a letter when I come back,” said Theodore.

Eloise slid the bag under her chemise and rubbed Theodore’s shoulders. “I'll miss our entanglements, Your Grace.”

As he tugged on his waistcoat, his thoughts were whirling. A disjointed jumble of emotions that made his head spin. The Dowager was old, no doubt, but she was the only living family he had left that was not fighting with him. Losing her would mean that he would have to continually endure the audacious offers of the mamas and be forced to socialize. Even with all of her deception, she helped him to keep most of thetonaway.

“How I hate London,” Theodore lamented as he got his gloves on and adjusted his lace collar.

Turning around, he strode purposefully to the farthest side of the room where a single portrait stood guard on the wall. It was his little sister, Isadora who passed away many years ago. Nevertheless, her picture was still vivid in his mind. If only she were still alive, everything would be so much better.

“Why did you have to die and leave me in this hell on earth?” he asked, staring at the brown hair and blue eyes on the canvas.

“Hell on earth?” Perceval asked, standing in the doorway. When Theodore did not say anything, the steward apologized. “I am sorry Your Grace. The carriages are ready.”

Abruptly straightening, Theodore moved closer to the painting. “Is not marriage just a pharisaical institution, Perceval? It is hell on earth if you ask me.”

“Besides, if Isadora were here, the Dowager would be troubling her instead of me. Her complaints are getting to me already. She always wanted to have children playing around in the house, causing trouble for the servants.”

“Marriage is a beautiful thing, Your Grace. When you are in love —”

Theodore interrupted him. “So you are now an expert on the matter?”

“Hardly, Your Grace. I believe that you are even more knowledgeable on the matter than I am,” Perceval replied with a small smile.

“Me?” the Duke of Wallington gasped, and his brows furrowed in surprise. “And what makes me have such mastery over the subject?” Perceval bowed slightly, telling Theodore that his only friend was about to say something that might be a bit upsetting.

“If I may, Your Grace, almost all of your former mistresses are married. Sophia, Mary, Victoria, Deborah. I heard Eloise will soon be engaged as well.”

Theodore was aghast. “What?”

“Housekeepers talk, Your Grace. I just overhear them,” Perceval replied with a suspicious glint in his eyes.

“That is why I do not trust the bonds of marriage. Those men who married them, are they supposed to be happy that their wives were formerly mistresses to the Duke of Wallington?”

Perceval smiled. “Love, Your Grace. Love conquers all.”

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