Page 1 of The Duke's Contract

Chapter One

Breanne Reynolds worked for the House of Rochester for three months, as a member of the family’s public relations team. Coming from the States, Bre did not know families outside of maybe the Kennedy’s who had people to care for their social image, but Britain, with all of its aristocratic families did. Mostly in her job, she maintained the social media accounts for the Rochester family, and she occasionally aided in other press-related duties. When they needed pictures of their charities spread across social media, she edited and posted. It seemed like an easy enough job if you did not take into account that her position also included making sure the “right” pictures were disseminated.

Breanne never personally met the Duke or any members of the Rochester family, but working for the PR team meant that she spent a lot of time cleaning up their messes. The young Duke of Rochester was the worst offender. Henry Rochester was often photographed in bars with random women hanging on his arm or stumbling out of nightclubs with his friends. At twenty-eight the Duke was often called the most eligible bachelor in all of Britain. His bad-boy persona made all the girls hot with the thought of being the one to change him. Every weekend a new scandal popped up, and every Monday Bre and Matthew spent their morning trying to contain the issue as best they could. Hell, Bre worked more Sundays than a priest.

“He’s going to send me to an early grave, “Matthew, Bre’s boss exclaimed as he stormed into their office. Matthew and Bre were a two-person team in charge of cleaning up a five-car pile-up. “Have you seen the papers?” He asked, throwing several magazines across Bre’s desk.

Bre shook her head. “No,” she told him. “No one reads their gossip in the papers. I saw it online, and when I say I saw it, I mean everywhere.”

“SHIT!” Matthew yelled, slamming himself down in his chair. “It’s barely morning, and already I want nothing more than to drink this day away.” Matthew cursed more than anyone she knew, which apparently is a British thing, but she wasn’t sure. Part of Bre’s job involved her talking Matthew off of the metaphorical ledge.

“The good news is that this is not that bad,” Bre said facing Matthew’s death glare. “Hear me out,” she cautioned.

“How is the Duke of Rochester’s dick picks not a big deal?” Matthew questioned his voice, reaching an octave that Bre swore might shatter the ancient window panes.

“It’s 2019, some of the most famous and influential people in the world have released sex tapes worse than those paparazzi photos,” Bre told Matthew. “Sure, they look bad, but he’s a grown man partaking in consensual sex. Granted, it was outside, but that just makes our job interesting. “Matthew did not appear impressed with her assessment.

Before her words could indeed cause Matthew to have that heart-attack her predicted, another voice joined the mix.

“Ms. Reynolds has a point, Mr. Nash,” the prim female voice said.

Matthew’s eyes bugged out of his head as he took in the Dowager Duchess of Rochester Priscilla Rochester who stood in their office in all of her designer glory. Both members of the Rochester PR team jumped to their feet at the Duchess’ entrance, and Bre felt herself blush knowing that the woman heard Bre’s rather blasé account of her son’s exploits.

“Please sit,” the Dowager Duchess said in a commanding tone.

“Madame,” Matthew started his voice shaking slightly, “Can I get you anything? Coffee or tea?”

Priscilla smiled, “Mr. Nash, we have more pressing matters at hand than my experiencing thirst in my own home.” Bree expected Matthew to expire right on the spot.

“Of course Your Grace,” she said, jumping to Matthew’s defense. “What is it that we can assist with?”

“I will get right to it. My son’s latest scandal has proven too much, and there is talk by others of revoking his position in the House of Lord’s. Apparently, releasing an image of one’s genitals is bad for one’s image,” the Dowager Duchess said sarcastically.

“My lady, we are already working on a plan to mitigate the damage,” Matthew stated, slipping quickly into his role after his initial shock dissipated.

“And, how does mitigate something such as this? “she asked. “No, my son needs more than a spin. He needs a complete overhaul, and he needs to give his peers the appearance of respectability, especially if we all hope to maintain the integrity of this household, “she stated. “Which is why I have devised this list for you to begin working through.”

The Dowager Duchess handed Bre a sheet of paper. Bre glanced confusedly at the contents before handing it over to Matthew.

“Forgive me ma’am, but I’m not sure what this is? A list of names?” Matthew asked general confusion clouding his features.

“These are the woman I want you and Ms. Reynolds to research,” she said. “It’s simple, Mr. Nash. I want my son married by the end of the year, and this office is going to help me make that happen.”

* * *

“Is she insane!” Bre yelled loudly as soon as the Dowager Duchess left their office. After her little declaration, Bre struggled to keep her face straight. ‘Who has their PR team find their son a wife,’ she thought to herself. Sometimes the life these people led made Bre’s head spin.

“Keep your voice down!” Matthew whisper yelled, fearful that the Dowager Duchess was lurking behind the door waiting to fire both of them. His nose pressed against the paper the Duchess left, and the wheels turning in his head were practically visible.

“We should start by doing a mock-up on each of these women,” Matthew stated already pulling up his laptop, probably to do a social media search. He took the whole arranged marriage thing much better than Bre did.

“You can’t be serious,” she questioned watching Matthew hack away at the computer. For someone pushing fifty, he sure knew how to dig up the internet dirt. “Can you stop typing for a moment!” she screamed in frustration. The entire morning had taken a mind-boggling turn, and Bre needed some guidance on what the fuck just happened.

Matthew slid his computer away and folded his hands on the desk, his entire demeanor sarcastic. “What’s the problem Breanne?” he asked. He only used her full name when annoyed.

“Picking someone’s future wife is a little out of our wheelhouse, don’t you think?” Bre aksed mind blown that Matthew continued to take this so calmly. “This isn’t covering up a crazy night; this is helping to steer someone’s life, and I’m sorry, but I’m not sure I’m totally comfortable getting involved here,” she told him honestly.

Bre wasn’t sure if she believed in love, per se, but she took marriage seriously enough that she knew a PR team meddling could only lead to disaster.

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