Page 5 of Devoted to the Duke (The St. Clairs 1)

The butler nodded deferentially and Jeremy went straight to the library. He would have preferred washing up first but when the Duke of Everton requested your presence, everything else faded into the woodwork.

Reaching the library, he knocked on the door and heard a voice bidding him to enter. He opened the door and closed it behind him.

His father sat in a chair next to the window, an ever-present glass of brandy in his hand. As Jeremy approached, he saw the past year hadn’t been kind to the elder St. Clair. The good looks of his youth had dissipated, thanks to an overindulgence in drink and food, coupled with years of late nights and little exercise. His ruddy complexion seemed more flush than usual and his hair had thinned to the point of baldness. He looked to weigh a good two stones heavier than when Jeremy had last seen him a year ago.

Crossing the room, he bowed. “Hello, Father. How have you been?”

No hand was offered. No gesture of warmth given. Not even a smile escaped the duke’s lips.

“Sit,” he commanded. “Drink?”

“No, thank you, sir.”

Jeremy took a seat across from his father and waited for him to lead the conversation. It was how they’d always communicated. His father barked at him. He answered in as few words as possible.

“Tell me you enjoyed your sojourns.”

“Indeed, I did.”

“Give me details, Boy.”

Jeremy launched into recounting some of the places he’d visited, including the business establishments he’d called upon, as well as estates and farms he’d visited.

“Stop,” his father commanded after several minutes, scrutinizing him. After a moment, he said, “What about the fun you had? The parties you attended. The women you met. The drinking and the hunting. What of that?”

“There was some of that,” he began. “I thought it important, though, since I am to be the next duke, that I learn about great estates, as well as businesses and which types I should invest in.”

“Balderdash! I sent you abroad to open your horizons, Jeremy, not for you to study dull topics as you did at Cambridge for four years. I’m sorely disappointed that you didn’t follow my instructions and relish your trip.”

“I did have a marvelous time, Father. I attended balls and plays and concerts. Went to museums and viewed the architecture of famous churches. I mingled with society and met fascinating people, including artists and playwrights. It would have been a wasted opportunity, though, not to have taken advantage to extend my knowledge in other areas. Which leads me to say that now I’ve returned home, I’m eager to become familiar with how our various estates are run.”

His father’s perplexed look silenced him. Jeremy hesitated a moment and decided to plunge ahead. “I realize you have no interest in the many operations that run on St. Clair lands, but I have a great interest in farming and husbandry. From what I’ve learned and what I saw in Europe, I believe—”

“No changes,” the duke proclaimed firmly. “I have competent managers to deal with those things. What I need is for you to quit being so bloody serious and enjoy being a young man of wealth and position. You’re a marquess, my boy. A St. Clair. We’re known for our enjoyment of life. It’s time you quit being so solemn and appreciate all you have and take advantage of it. Drink! Dance! Find a mistress!”

Jeremy held his tongue. All his life, he’d seen his father engage in irresponsible behavior. He acted as a wastrel, overeating and drinking to excess. Gambling. Fighting. Having countless affairs. The Duke of Everton was an embarrassment to his family. Jeremy had heard the many whispers that disparaged his father behind his back, though never to his face since he was, in fact, the Duke of Everton.

Jeremy planned to be a much different kind of duke. One who would be responsible to his people and careful with his purse. One whose behavior and manners were so impeccable, society would never question them. One who never embarrassed his family. He’d been in plenty of schoolboy fights, defending the St. Clair name and his father’s despicable behavior. Once he claimed the title, he would restore honor to his family and act the way a duke should.

In a dismissive voice, his father said, “You can start amusing yourself tonight by attending the Wethersby ball. The Season is in full swing.”

“Do you expect me to begin a search for a wife?” Jeremy asked pointedly.

His father guffawed. “That’s the last thing I’d expect from you. Sow your wild oats. Find a pretty widow. One of around thirty. Old enough to teach you a few things and young enough to still have her looks and figure. Reconnect with your old friends. Go riding and to your club.

“But whatever you do, you are to stay out of my business affairs,” the duke warned.

“I understand, sir.”

Jeremy rose and excused himself. His gut told him his father was hiding something. Something that might affect the entire wellbeing of the St. Clair family.

He would find Cor. She would know if anything was amiss.

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