Page 33 of Devoted to the Duke (The St. Clairs 1)

Chapter Eleven

London—June, 1806

Jeremy waited forLuke and Rachel to finish eating. He didn’t want either of them to hear his conversation with Cor. Already, it was hard to put a smile on his face and act as if nothing were wrong.

When everything was.

Luke had been stoic during their father’s funeral, only later admitting to Jeremy the same feelings Rachel had confided. His brother had rarely seen, much less spoken to, his father. Jeremy suspected the lack of parental attention might have had something to do with Luke’s occasionally outrageous behavior. He’d told the boy in no uncertain terms he would never treat him the way their father had. At the same time, he wanted Luke’s word that he would not only do his best regarding his studies but behave at all times as a gentleman should. In the three weeks since the funeral, his brother hadn’t given anyone a bit of trouble. It helped that Jeremy included Luke on the daily morning rides he took with Rachel and that he recommended books for Luke to read, which they discussed in-depth in the evenings.

Finally, the two children finished their meal. Rachel’s governess had a botany lesson planned and was taking Rachel to Hyde Park. Luke had volunteered to go along since he had a keen interest in science. Jeremy told them he would see them late that afternoon, as he had business to attend to.

“You’re always doing business,” Rachel noted. “I’m glad I’ll never be a duke.”

“You’ll have your own business to run one day,” Cor said. “When you wed, you will manage a great household.”

The girl sniffed haughtily. “I may never marry, Cor. You know I don’t like being bossed around. The vows say you must obey a husband. I’m not quite sure if I would agree to that.”

Luke laughed as he stood and placed his napkin on his chair. “I feel the same, Rachel. Marriage is overrated, in my opinion. Besides, Jeremy’s the heir. He’s the one who needs to marry.”

“But you are now Earl of Mayfield,” Jeremy pointed out. “You’ll need a son to succeed you one day as the new earl.”

What he left out was Luke’s inheritance—Fairhaven. If Jeremy couldn’t conquer the mountain of debt soon, he would be forced to sell Fairhaven. Though the property belonged to Luke, he was only fifteen. Because of his age, Jeremy managed and made all decisions regarding their late father’s holdings, which had now transferred to his second son. It was one of the many things he desperately needed to talk over with Cor.

The children excused themselves, leaving him with her.

“What’s on your mind, Grandson?” Cor asked.

Jeremy blew out a long breath. “Too many things,” he said honestly. “After multiple meetings with Father’s solicitor and banker—coupled with Matthew’s astute advice—I’ve listed four properties. Two have already sold and a third buyer is deep into talks. It may come down to selling Fairhaven, though.”

Displeasure flitted across her face. “Is that necessary?”

“It may be. Unless I wed rather quickly. Even then, it may take selling Fairhaven and then buying it back. Or purchasing another property for Luke once we’re solvent again.” He paused. “Have you met with the Patronesses?”

The Patronesses ruled Almack’s with an iron fist, granting vouchers to the assembly rooms to a select few, based upon their family name and connections. Because of that, the Patronesses knew everything about everyone in society. Cor was good friends with two of these women and he’d tasked her with learning which young ladies bore the largest dowries.

“I met with both Lady Jersey and Countess Lieven.” She removed a folded sheet from under her plate and passed it across to him. “This list contains the names of eligible ladies who hold both a large dowry and haven’t accepted any offers yet. Lady Jersey told me you’d need to act quickly if you wish to claim anyone on this list. The Season will be over soon and she believes all of the names will commit to a gentleman by then.”

Jeremy skimmed the list of six women. He recognized all of the names but one and could attach a face to two of the ones present.

“Be glad tonight is Wednesday, the only night Almack’s is open,” Cor said. “I obtained a voucher for you. The countess told me every girl on the list will be present tonight. If you’re going to find a wife, it must be tonight, Jeremy.”

“Do you think I’ll be judged harshly because I should be in mourning for the next six months?” he asked.

“I, of course, will go to no events until next Season,” Cor said. “It’s different for a man. Especially a duke. Because of the level of society you’ve attained with your new title, you may write your own rules, Grandson.”

He stared at the wall for a moment. The thought of dancing with anyone other than Catherine sickened him. Since his return to London after burying his father, he hadn’t been to his club, much less any ball or the theatre, thanks to being swamped with information about his father’s estate and the crushing debts he owed. Still, he owed it to the family to pull them from the quagmire Stephen St. Clair had sunk them into.

That meant going to Almack’s tonight—and finding a suitable bride.

“Do you have any advice on what I should look for in a wife? Other than her extravagant dowry.”

Cor thought a moment. “The younger, the better. That way, she’ll easily be swept off her feet. You can be quite charming when you choose, Jeremy, and you’ll need every bit of your charm present if you’re to convince a young lady that you’ve fallen instantly in love with her after a single dance.”

He frowned. “I have tosaythat—that I’m in love?”

“Not in so many words,” she demurred. “Merely remark you are quite taken with her. How she’s from a good family and that you’re looking for the perfect woman to become your duchess. Tell her you’re eager to start a family. All girls think about having babies with handsome men. Especially if they are dukes.”

A family was the last thing he wanted. Thinking of putting his wife through childbirth turned his stomach.

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