A Widow’s Fated Match with the Duke (Preview)

Prologue

“Rise and shine, Your Ladyship …” 

The curtains that hung over the bedroom windows were thick and heavy, and they were designed specifically to keep out the morning sun in ways that plunged the room into darkness on even the brightest of days. Their singular flaw, however, was that they became entirely ineffective once they were thrown open.

“Argh!” Lady Rosaline Crowley, the Countess of Ashby, moaned as morning light flooded her room and washed over her face. “Too early …”

“Nonsense, Your Ladyship, the time is perfect for waking.” Jeniffer Samson was Rosaline’s lady in waiting, and this was a dance that both women were entirely too used to. “Your good husband has been awake for a hull hour already, and it will not do to see you spend all day in bed.”

“My husband …” With one arm covering her eyes, Rosaline rolled over in bed to find the space beside her empty. 

“Has gone for a morning ride,” Jeniffer explained as she finished opening the curtains, of which there were many. It bathed the large room in golden and warm light, making it all but impossible for Rosaline to even pretend to fall back to sleep. “He did ask me to inform you that he will return shortly, and he expects you to be awake.”

“Does he now,” Rosaline muttered.

“Breakfast is ready for you,” Jeniffer continued pleasantly as she moved toward the bed. “If you would like, I can have a bath fixed for you also, before you break your fast. Whichever you prefer.” 

“I presume that another hour of sleep is not on the menu?”

Jeniffer giggled. “You are too funny, Your Ladyship. Married life suits you.” She flashed a toothy smile.

“Perhaps I was funnier before I wed?” Rosaline said as she stifled a yawn. “And what you are seeing is a decaying of my once resounding humor.”

Jeniffer giggled again. “Very funny. Now …” She looked expectantly down at Rosaline, still beaming, still appearing delighted with herself. “Shall we bathe first or eat?”

Rosaline sighed, knowing too well that she was not going to convince Jeniffer to leave her be for another hour … maybe even two. The day had begun, there was no escaping it, and it would not do to still be in bed when her husband returned.

Although, one might say that it would not do for my husband to leave me on my own so that he could go for a ride. That he has chosen to do so, rather than spending the morning in bed with me, is telling … not that I am one to complain.

Rosaline looked again to the empty space beside her. On instinct, her hand moved to her belly, resting it there as if she might be able to feel life growing inside of her. Impossible, she knew, as she was only married now for a week and even if she was she with child, it would be far too soon for her to know. But that did not mean she was not allowed to be hopeful.

“A bath first,” Rosaline decided as she slowly peeled herself from bed. “And then breakfast.”

“Wonderful,” Jeniffer said. “I will inform the chambermaids to ready it …” She turned and hurried across the room, humming gaily as she went.

Rosaline watched her go with mixed feelings. 

Jeniffer was new in her life, as she had been assigned to Rosaline after her wedding day. She liked the girl well enough too, enjoying particularly how merry she always was. But she found it a little frustrating that this was her honeymoon, yet Jeniffer was the one whose mood was piqued beyond compare. 

Was life fair then it would have been Rosaline who was singing and prancing about in states of pure wedded bliss. She hoped to be one day soon, once she decided how she felt about her husband. As things stood, she liked him well enough, and she was certain that in time she would learn to love him.

It has only been a week, Rosaline. Patience is what is required. Patience … and a child to call my own. Then, I will be the one up with the sun.

Rosaline spent the following hour getting ready for the day.

By the time she presented herself in the breakfast room, she was wide awake and feeling fresh like she had not done earlier. There was a smile on her face, and it grew wider when she walked into the room and looked upon the view that sat just outside the window.

“It is beautiful isn’t it, My Lady,” Jeniffer crooned. “Oh, if only you could live here forever.”

“It is something,” Rosaline agreed. “I hope my husband is enjoying himself.”

“I would say he must be,” Jeniffer agreed. “He should have been back by now …” She laughed. “Perhaps he has gotten lost.”

“Or distracted,” Rosaline said.

The view from the window was made up of rolling green fields broken by mountains, beyond which Rose could just spy the crystal blue waters of the ocean. It was so gorgeous that she took an extra minute by the window, just to better admire the serenity.

For their honeymoon, her husband had elected to visit Italy for two whole weeks. He owned a villa on the western coastline, and more than once he had hinted that they might extend their stay for even longer.

Personally, Rosaline did not wish to stay beyond the two weeks, but that had nothing to do with the location. As gorgeous as it was, she looked forward to returning home so that she could settle into her new life. This was all very new for her, and she would not feel truly comfortable until she knew what the future held.

“My Lady …” Jeniffer stood by the table. “Your breakfast?” She beamed.

“Ah, yes, breakfast.” Rosaline smiled and took her seat. “What do we have today?”

Jeniffer was about to answer her, only for a sharp cry coming from somewhere inside the villa cut her off. Rosaline perked up as she looked toward where the voices came from, and she very nearly stood and went to see for herself, before Jeniffer stopped her.

“Allow me,” she said as she hurried across the room. “Perhaps it is your lord husband returning …”

Rosaline assumed it must be, and she straightened herself and fixed a smile upon her face. 

Her marriage to Lord Maxwell Crowley, the Earl of Ashby, was one that had been arranged several months ago, not through desire, but because her late parents had wanted it. She first met him at one of the many charity dinners she liked to host, the one in particular pertaining to housing orphans. He had donated more than anyone else that evening, done to impress her parents and catch her eye … evidently, it was a success.

He was a kind man. He was not cruel or wicked in any way. But he was also a stranger, and Rosaline was determined for that to change. This marriage was for the rest of her life, she intended to raise a family with him, and she very much hoped that in time they would not only grow close but even fall in love.

Just give it time, Rosaline … that is all you need do … a few more days and you will look back on this initial awkwardness and laugh.

“My Lady …” Jeniffer appeared in the doorway and for the first time ever she was not smiling. Her head was bowed, her shoulders were hunched, and her chin wobbled furiously.

“Jeniffer.” Rosaline pushed back her chair. “What is the matter?”

“It is Lord Crowley,” she said, sniffing back tears. “It appears that there has been an accident.”

“An accident?” Rosaline’s stomach dropped.

“Yes, My Lady …” She sniffed and wiped her nose. “A terrible, terrible accident.”

Rosaline could not remember the carriage ride to the doctor’s home. It was a short ride, less than thirty minutes, but she spent that time in a daze as she tried to fathom what had happened, what it might mean for the future, and how she felt about it.

“I am sure he is fine,” Jeniffer was saying, more to herself than to Rosaline. “Lord Crowley is stronger than you might think. He likely just broke a leg or … or … he is going to be fine.” 

It was Rosaline who should have been bereaved, and it was Jeniffer who should have comforted her. But seeing her lady in waiting utterly bereft and needing support, Rosaline took her hand and rested it in her lap.

“I am sure you are right,” she said. “Everything will be fine.”

I only wish that I believed it.

She still did not know what had happened. Or rather, she did not know the finer details. The commotion that Rosaline heard earlier had been her husband’s cousin, who was with him on the ride. As he explained to Jennifer—who then passed the information onto Rosaline because he had rushed from the house to be with his cousin—her husband had taken a terrible fall from his horse and was yet to wake up.

He was taken immediately to the village doctor, and again Jeniffer had been assured that he would be fine. It was just a precaution. This doctor was supposed to be the best in the county. Likely, it would see an early end to their honeymoon, but nothing to worry about.

Rosaline found herself in a state of utter confusion.

She prayed that her husband was well, because she did not want anything to happen to him. Yet she could not escape the guilt that crept up inside of her because despite her worry for his safety, her thoughts continued to stray to the obvious place.

What if he is not well? What if it is worse than they say? What if the worst has happened and I am left on my own, and without …

Her hand strayed to her stomach, and she felt her body turn cold at the thought of what this might mean. This had her feeling guilty, which had her feeling darn rotten, which added to the general state of confusion that she knew would not dissipate until she had answers.

Those answers came soon after.

“I am so sorry, My Lady …” The doctor was older than Rosaline expected, hunched of back, grey of hair, and with skin like leather. He also spoke little English, which made the moment more awkward than it should have been. “I … how you say … there was nothing I could do.”

“My husband,” Rosaline said, doing her best to remain calm and in control. “What has happened to my husband?”

They were standing outside of a small home in the center of the seaside village. Dozens of people had gathered about, the commotion drawing them from their homes. Among them, Rosaline saw her husband’s horse.

She was yet to be granted entry into the home, however, a decision which was starting to look purposeful.

“He … ah … I am not sure how to …” The doctor bit into his lip as he considered the words. “His horse, it threw him from its back, My Lady.”

She swallowed. “My husband. What has happened to my husband?”

“It was his neck, My Lady,” the doctor said. “It broke as he landed. There was nothing to be done.”

“Are you saying …” The world started to turn, and Rosaline very nearly collapsed. “Are you saying that my husband is dead?”

“Oh no,” Jennifer gasped.

“He is, My Lady,” the doctor said with sadness. “He has passed.”

That was when it hit her. She had been expecting it. Somehow, she had known it was coming. But until she heard the words, Rosaline had refused to let those thoughts bury too deeply inside of her conscience.

Now, they were left to reign freely, and they brought havoc.

Rosaline collapsed to her knees. Her breathing was ragged. Her heart thundered against her chest. And without even realizing it, her hand moved once again to her belly.

“My Lady!” Jeniffer fell in beside her. “You cannot stay here.” She tried to pull Rosaline to her feet. “Please, My Lady, we need to get you inside …”

“The body …” Rosaline was speaking almost to herself, anything she could do to keep herself centered. “We will need to have it brought home.”

“Yes, My Lady, but first we must get you inside.”

“His family, they will need to be told,” she continued. “A funeral … I must … he cannot stay here.”

“He won’t, My Lady. Please …” She groaned as she helped Rosaline to her feet. “Come now, quickly …” She started to lead Rosaline toward the house, and the doctor was sure to usher the spectators away and clear a path.

Rosaline hardly noticed them. She stumbled as she walked, the sky turned around her, and still her hand remained on her stomach. 

 It was true to say that Rosaline had not yet embraced her marriage as much as she would have liked. And it was true to say that she was yet to fall in love with her husband. But that did not mean she wasn’t bereaved, and it certainly did not mean that she wasn’t in pain.

Worse still, as she was led inside, her hand remained on her belly, and her mind went to the single place it had on so many occasions these last few days. A place that, when she allowed her thoughts to settle, made her body run cold and her knees tremble so that she could hardly walk.

If her husband got her with child, this would not be the end of her. The times to come would certainly be hard, but she would get through them, because she would have a reason to do so. All she had ever wanted was a child of her own, and if that was to be her husband’s legacy, she would find a way to live with it.

But if he had not succeeded in giving her a child, Rosaline could not say what she would do. Her life was effectively over, and what was supposed to be the beginning of her new life was now looking like the end of it

Let us hope I am with child … let us hope that my husband’s legacy lives on … let us hope that this is not the end of me. 

Chapter One

Eight months later

“Brother … we have a small problem.”

Lord Leonard Bryant, the acting Duke of Markham, was sitting by his father’s bedside, head in his hands, doing his absolute best to remain in control of the chaos that quietly suffocated him, when he heard the soft voice speak from across the room.

His head snapped up, he saw the look of despair on his younger sister’s face, and the utter despair that had been a part of his world now for several months, somehow grew even worse. 

It was the look on her face that did it, the not-so-subtle worry that reflected clearly in her green eyes. 

He suppressed the urge to groan, but only because to do so, to complain, would make no difference. Leonard was not the technical head of this household, but it was on his shoulders that those duties now fell. And as he had learned recently, in times like this one, the head needed to be strong.

If not for me, then so that my sister and mother and everyone else have someone they can look up to—that vain hope that somehow I can make everything better. Even though I often feel as if I’m making it worse.

“What is it, Amelia?” Leonard sat up straight and stern. “What’s wrong?”

 “It is Mother.” Lady Amelia Bryant was twenty-one years old, making her six years younger than Leonard. She was his baby sister always, he would do anything for her, and she knew it. “She is … you know how she gets.”

Leonard sighed deeply and rose to his feet. His mother was not a well woman, and these last few months had taken their toll. Whatever was wrong with her, he was certain he could assist with. He just wished sometimes that he didn’t have to, that someone else might …

No. This is the way things are, and you know why. It can only be me, even if it was never meant to be. Even if I am not ready … but then again, I doubt I ever will be.

“Let me have a look …” Leonard was two strides across the room when he remembered where he was and what he was doing. He started and turned back, grimacing with guilt at having nearly walked away without even realizing.

His father, the Duke of Markham, lay asleep in the bed. 

The Duke was sickly looking; his skin was grey, his hair was thinning, his eyes and cheeks were sunken pits. He was a skeleton that had somehow escaped its skin, not quite a corpse, but well on the way. Eyes closed, breathing shallow, he was at peace in the moment. That, at least, was something to be grateful for.

Leonard hesitated, because he didn’t much like the idea of leaving his father’s side if he could help it. Just in case something went wrong …

“He will be fine,” Amelia assured when she saw him hesitate. “He is unlikely to wake anytime soon. And when he does, the staff will fetch you.”

“I know …” Leonard reluctantly pulled his gaze from his father. “I just don’t like leaving him on his own. I like to think he can sense when we’re close by.”

Amelia’s smile was soft and filled with sadness. “I am sure he does. Just as I am sure he appreciates everything that you do.”

Leonard followed his sister from his father’s bedroom, down the hallway, and into his mother’s bedroom. Even before he walked inside, he knew what was wrong, and that was because he heard his mother well before he saw her.

She was crouched down by the fireplace, her arms wrapped around her body, rocking back and forth as she wept and wailed into the open flames.

“Oh, Mother …” Leonard walked gingerly toward his weeping mother. “There is no need for this. Father will recover in time …” He knelt beside her, his arm going over her shoulder in a form of comfort.

“That’s not what upsets her,” Amelia said.

“What do you mean?” Leonard asked.

“They’re talking about him again,” his mother cried as she rocked back and forth. “Him and his … his mistress.” She said that final word with a venomous sneer. “I know they are. Why can they not leave him alone?”

Leonard sighed but had no idea what to say. He wanted to make his mother feel better, to help her through this tough time, but he also did not want to lie to her. 

“Do not listen to it.” Gently, he helped his mother to her feet. She allowed herself to be lifted, even as her body trembled and the tears continued to fall. “It is unimportant.”

“How could he do this to me?’ she continued through heavy tears. “How … after all I have done …”

“Come now, Mother.” Leonard led her back to bed, gently helping her to lie down. “Have you taken your medication today?”

“I do not need it.”

“You do,” he said softly, not wanting to upset her further. “Amelia …” He looked at his sister. “Do you have her medicine?”

“Here, let me.” Amelia hurried to the bed, already fumbling through her purse to produce the pain medication that the doctor had prescribed.

“No!” Their mother feebly tried to push Amelia away. “I said I don’t want it! I don’t want it!”

It was tough going, but together, Leonard and Amelia convinced their mother to take her medicine, at which point she became dreary and lethargic. The crying stopped, the trembling diminished, and her eyelids began to droop as the fire cast a soft orange light over her.

“She’s getting worse.” Leonard looked at his sleeping mother, feeling his stomach twist with sadness and shame. “They both are.”

“It cannot last forever.” Amelia rested her hand on his shoulder. “Things will get better.”

“Will they?” 

Leonard’s mother had been ill now for years. The doctors did not know what was wrong with her exactly, only that she was susceptible to extreme headaches that crippled her if she did not take her pain medication. 

Worse still, these headaches were contributing to what could only be described as memory loss … or memory confusion. She would often forget where she was, what year she was living in, and sometimes even who her children were. Even these episodes she was having about their father’s affairs suggested she did not realize how sick he was, thinking it to be years ago when their father’s affairs were at their worst.

The medicine they gave her was not a cure. All it did was dull the pain that came upon her at times, lulling her into a sleep so that she might wake later and be herself. But more and more, she would wake up and still be confused. 

It was all too much. Leonard’s sick mother, his dying father, and the pressure to keep his household together as the walls crashed down around him. 

While it was typical of the eldest son to take the reins of the family during times of woe such as these were, Leonard was not the eldest son.

What I am, is the only option left. Not a task that I have asked for, not one that that I sought, but one I must accept. For better or for worse.

“I will watch over her.” Amelia squeezed his shoulder. “You return to Father. I know you would rather be by his side.”

Leonard’s smile was weak. “Thank you. If you need anything …”

“I’ll call for you,” Amelia assured him as she pulled out a stool and set herself by their mother’s head.

Leonard walked to the doorway and turned back a final time to take in the scene. His mother sleeping. His sister holding her hand and saying a silent prayer. The weighty tension that sat heavy in the room because both he and his sister knew that things were not going to get better. They were well past that point by now.

Leonard started back down the hall, thinking to spend the rest of the evening by his father’s side. Before he reached his father’s room, Leonard heard a commotion building from the front of the manor. It sounded like the crash of a doorway being thrown open, followed by shouting.

“What now …” Leonard groaned and changed course, heading for the calamity whose chaos echoed throughout his home.

It was thirty seconds later when Leonard appeared at the top of the staircase which led into the main foyer. He saw immediately what had caused the disturbance, and when he did, he wondered to himself if this day could get any worse, knowing all the while that it likely would.

At this point, it might as well. The walls have collapsed, so what’s to stop the ceiling from falling and burying me where I stand?

“Speak of the devil! Or should I say Judas? Both feel relevant, considering what you have done.”

Lord Michael Bryant was Leonard’s older brother by two years. Like Leonard, he was a tall and strapping specimen with chestnut colored hair, deep hazel eyes, and a firm jaw with a pronounced chin. Where they differed, at least physically, was in the tone of their skin. Leonard’s skin was sun-kissed, while Michael was pale white like ivory.

He stood in the middle of the foyer, amid an argument with two valets who looked to be doing their best to keep him from entering the household. 

With Michael was his wife, Lady Hyacinth Bryant, and she stayed close to him in a way that was either for protection or to lend encouragement. When she saw Leonard appear, she curled her lip and fixed him in a glare that matched the same that Michael wore.

“Michael…” Leonard spoke carefully and calmly as he descended the staircase. “What are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here?” He scoffed with derision. “I might say that is none of your business.”

“And you are welcome to say it,” Leonard agreed. “Not that doing so is going to convince me to allow you any further inside.”

“Allow me?” Michael pushed past the valets and met Leonard at the base of the staircase. Leonard stood tall when his brother came at him, refusing to back down even an inch. “Who are you to allow anything?”

“We both know the answer to that.”

“I am here to see Father,” Michael demanded. “Now.”

“I am afraid that is not possible.”

The side of Michael’s lip twitched. “It was not question, Leonard. I will see Father. Whether you step aside and allow me to pass, or whether I am forced to make you step aside, is up to you.”

“I do not want to fight with you, Michael,” Leonard said calmly. “Nor do I wish for argument.”

“Then step aside.”

“As you know, I cannot do that.” Leonard was a few inches taller than Michael, and a little wider in the shoulders, so he was able to stand over him and use his size to threaten his brother from doing anything rash. 

As this was his brother, however, Leonard doubted that even if he was holding a pistol aimed and pointed at Michael’s chest, that it would make any difference. He always had been stubborn like that.

“My father has taken ill,” Michael sneered. “And I will see him.”

“He has been ill for many months,” Leonard countered. “That you are choosing to seek an audience with him now suggests that his sickness is not your true reason for being here.” Leonard glanced at Hyacinth. “Not that I need to guess at the reason, mind you.”

His brother’s pitch-black eyes flashed with anger. “And what exactly are you implying?”

“You are stubborn, Brother, not stupid,” Leonard shot back. “Do not treat me like a fool.”

The two brothers stared one another down. 

Michael was visibly shaking, while Leonard was perfectly calm. Nonetheless, Leonard was sure to brace himself, just in case his older brother decided to act out and attack him. With all that Michael had done in the past, it would not have surprised him in the least.

At this point, there is little that Michael could do that would shock me. After all, isn’t that how we have managed to find ourselves in this mess?

Michael Bryant was the eldest son, and the technical heir to the dukedom that would be his once their father passed away. He was also the ‘forgotten son,’ and had their father been well enough to do so, he would be standing where Leonard was, demanding that Michael leave at once. 

It started during his teen years, a time of rebellion that saw Michael sneak out to gamble and drink and make a fool of himself often. When their father found out, ordering him to stop at once, Michael did it again and again, and continued to do whatever he damn pleased. Did he enjoy it? Or was it merely a means at frustrating their father? Likely, it was both.

This unique ability to do the exact opposite of what he was told reached the point of calamity when he married Hyacinth, an act that was expressly forbidden by their father. Hyacinth was common born, not worthy of the Markham dukedom, and Michael was given the choice of her or his inheritance.

 When Michael chose Hyacinth, he was cast out of the family once and for all, and his inheritance was passed to Leonard in his stead. At least that was the idea. 

Now that father has taken ill, he seems to think that he can change Father’s mind, or perhaps force him to recant entirely? Whatever the reason, he is not here because he cares about our father’s health. Of that, I have no doubt.

“I see what you are doing,” Michael sneered. “Do not think otherwise.”

“What I am doing is protecting my family. Our family, I will remind you.”

“No…” Michael reached behind him for Hyacinth’s hand; she gave it, and he pulled her close. “You mean to keep me out so that you can have it all. The dukedom. The title. The money that comes with it! You are in this for yourself.”

Leonard looked at his brother flatly. “Do not mistake your own motives for mine, Brother. Everything I do is for our family. You are the one who –”

“Is being cheated!” 

“You were warned!” Leonard hissed, his temper finally getting the better of him. “Do not act as if this is some sort of vendetta against you.” Leonard looked at his brother with disdain. “Even with all the gambling and embarrassment you brought to this home, our father was willing to forgive you.”

“Oh, how magnanimous of him.”

“But you could not help yourself!” Leonard continued hotly. “You never could! And when you married Hyacinth against our father’s wishes–”

“Do not sully my wife’s name!” Michael snarled. “Keep her name off your tongue.”

“You had your chance …” Leonard took a deep breath, forcing calm. “You were given a choice, and you made it. Despite what you might think, I never wanted this, I never asked for it. But it has been thrust onto me, and where you could not put our family first, I will not make that same mistake.” Leonard stood as tall as he could so that he looked down on his brother. “Now, I have asked you once, and you declined. This time, I am telling you. Get out.”

“Michael …” Hyacinth pulled on her husband’s hand. “We should …”

“No!” He wrenched his arm free, still glaring at Leonard. “I am the eldest son! This—” He waved his arms to gesture to the home.“—is all mine! Not yours. Mine!” He slammed his fist into his chest. “And if you will not step aside as I command you to do, I will take it. As is my right.”

“And how do you plan on doing that?” Leonard scoffed.

His brother was shaking with hatred. Still, Leonard braced himself in case this came to blows. 

Only then, he saw a change take over his brother; a smirk crossed his lips, and a look of pure wickedness flashed behind his eyes as laughter rumbled in the back of his throat. 

“A duel.” Michael straightened and pronounced his chest. “You and I. We shall duel, and the winner will—”

“Forget it,” Leonard cut over him. “I am not going to duel you.”

“So, you are a coward.”

“I am not going to duel my own brother,” Leonard cried. “What would our parents say? What would our peers say? Brother, you have lost your mind. Truly.”

“No, I have found it.” He laughed. “You will not get rid of me, Brother. So long as there is air in my lungs, I will fight for what is mine by right. If you wish to stop me, there is but one path and I am giving it to you. Now…” He stepped into Leonard to match his eyeline. “Do you accept?”

“I will not fight you.”

“Do you accept?”

What could Leonard do? He could deny his brother as much as he wished. He could refuse, force him to leave, and pray that in time his brother would come to accept the reality of the situation; that there was no changing it. 

He could any number of things … none of which would work.

Michael had always been strong willed. He had always been stubborn. And he had always been the type do go after what he thought was his in this life, no matter who he had to tread on and even kill in the process. That was just the type of person he was.

Leonard had no desire to duel his brother, but as he had said so many times before, where his family was concerned, there was nothing he would not do. Now, it was time to prove it.

“A duel …” Leonard sighed, letting his shoulders drop with reluctance. “As you wish. Name a time and a place Brother and you and I …” His stomach twisted with shame and guilt. “And you and I will settle this once and for all.”

It was the day following Michael’s declaration. The terms of the duel had been set. The date and the time were agreed upon. And now, all that was left was to wait.

Or rather, all that was left was to ensure that if this duel did not go the way that Leonard needed it to go, that it would not put his family in jeopardy. His sister and mother were Leonard’s chief concern, and he needed to ensure that they were taken care of.

 He thus took a trip into London to see his solicitor, where he was then taken through the finer details of his father’s last will and testament. As initially hoped for, the beginnings of this meeting went as expected.

Michael was the eldest son, and upon their father’s death, he would still inherit the title of duke. But it would be an empty title, because everything else was bequeathed to Leonard. The estates. The land. The fortune. It was Leonard’s to look after and see grow, because he was the only one who their father trusted to do so.

That was where the good news ended.

“You have three years to secure a bride,” Mr. Lennon explained as he read from the will; he spoke slowly as he watched Leonard, ensuring that he was paying attention this time. “And not just a bride, but an heir also. If you fail to do as dictated, all inheritance will revert to your older brother.”

“But that is …” Leonard shook his head to clear his thoughts. “My father would not do that. How could he …”

“I am afraid that he did, my lord.”

“But why?” Leonard pressed desperately. “He is the one who … if he wished for Michael to inherit everything, why not just keep things as they were in the first place?”

Mr. Lennon shrugged. “You will have to ask your father. I do suspect that it is merely a precaution, my lord. And three years, it is not so short a time. Surely, you will be able to find a bride without too much of an issue?”

“Yes, well …” Leonard clicked his tongue. “That is not really the point now, is it.”

Having been raised as the son of a duke, Leonard knew of the necessity of marriage, just as he suspected that one day he would need to do his part and marry. The hesitation came from the very real fact that he had never wanted to marry. Ever. 

His father was to blame for this, as he had witnessed firsthand the effect that his infidelities had on his mother. Why on earth would he want something that would only bring pain to both involved?

Leonard’s chief concern for months now was his family and their future. His mother was ill, his father was dying, and his baby sister could not be expected to keep things afloat. That was Leonard’s task, and wasting time trying to find a bride, and then going through the shenanigans required to marry … 

It is low on my list of concerns. And lower than that.

It was all very confusing. And stressful. And the last thing that Leonard wished to deal with. For this reason, he was in a daze when he stumbled from Mr. Lennon’s office and onto the busy London street. The sun was in his eyes, there were people everywhere, and he was so in his own head that he did not look where he was going.

Typically, on days like this one, when the bad quickly turned worse, Leonard should have paid attention to where he was going. If he had done, then he would not have walked headfirst into a poor, unsuspecting pedestrian.

Which is exactly what happened.

“Oh!” the woman cried out as Leonard knocked into her.

“Oh my!” Leonard exclaimed in shock. On instinct, his hand shot out and wrapped around the small of her back, pulling her to her feet before she fell. “My deepest apologies, madam, I did not see you there.”

“Easy to do when you are not looking,” the woman said in a fluster.

He grimaced. “Forgive me, please, I have had a rather confusing day and this moment right here appears to symbolize perfectly just how …” He trailed off as he stepped back from the woman and saw her clearly for the first time.

“Just how what?” she asked as she straightened her gown and fixed her bonnet.

“Lady Rosaline?” Leonard gasped. “Surely that is not you?”

She looked up and found his face for the first time. A moment taken as she studied him, only for her eyes to widen with recognition. “Leonard?”

“It is you!” Leonard laughed. “What on earth—” He stepped forward to hug her but stopped short because that would not be appropriate. “Lady Rosaline, what are you doing here? You are the last person…”

“I might ask you the same thing.”

“Apart from nearly knocking poor women to their feet with my clumsy lumbering, you mean?” he said with a grin, quite possibly the first time he had found a reason to do so in longer than he could remember. 

 “Yes, apart from that,” she laughed.

Lady Rosaline Crowley, he believed that was her last name. If Leonard’s memory served, she was married to the Viscount of Ashby, for close to a year now. 

To Leonard, that made little difference, because in his eyes she would always be the same Rosaline who he had grown up next door to all those years ago.

Has it really been that long … 

She looked just as he remembered. The same dark black hair; thick and flowing down her back like a mane. The same porcelain white skin that shimmered in the light. The same crystal blue eyes that were a touch too big for her face. And that same dusting of freckles that sat across the bridge of her nose. She was older now. A woman, to be sure. But it was still the same girl he used to sneak out and play with back when the only care he had in the world was what would be served for supper.

“I am surprised to see you here,” Leonard began cheerfully. As strange as it was, just seeing Rosaline was enough to put him in good spirits, if for no other reason than it reminded him of simpler times. “Remind me, you live in Cornwall, yes? With your husband?”

She bowed her head. “Clearly, you are not up to date on local gossip.”

“What do you mean?”

“My husband…” She sniffed and wiped her nose. “Sadly, he passed away eight months ago.”

“No! How?”

She sighed. “It is not important. And I do not wish to burden you with troubling news. On a day as beautiful as this one.” She looked around, smiling at the sun which shone down on them. “Let us not talk of things of that nature.”

Leonard rested a hand on her arm. “I am sorry to hear it, Rosaline. I know we are not as close as we once were …” He laughed softly. “But who has such luxury as they did when they were children? Simpler times, weren’t they?”

“I miss them,” she said with a smile that seemed forced. “Alas, there is no point wishing for that which will never happen. Best to face reality and hope you come out the other side with few bruises to show for it.”

“I’ll remember that,” he said. “Say …” Leonard looked about them as he came to a decision. “What are you doing right now? It has been so long, and if you are free, it might be nice to catch up? My feeling is that we both have a lot to talk about.”

“Wish that I could,” she said. “Sadly, I have spent the past eight months pretending that my husband might miraculously return from the grave. But Henry is insistent that he will not—”

“Henry?”

“Lord Ashby,” she clarified. “My late husband’s cousin. He has taken on the task of setting my late husband’s estate in order, which is hard to do with my refusal to accept reality.” She tittered awkwardly. “Hence, my being here.”

“In London?”

“No,” she said. “Here …” She looked over his shoulder at the building he had just come from.

“Oh …” Leonard nodded in understanding. “You are visiting the solicitor.”

“And it promises to be a most tiring day.” Her shoulders slumped and the smile left her face. “I never thought this would happen to me, you know. Once I wed, I was certain that my life … that everything I wanted …” She sniffed and wiped her nose. “That it would get easier. Only, it does not. It gets harder, every single day, and all I can do is … is …” She sniffed again, her chin wobbling, and to Leonard’s eyes, she was one wrong thing said from bursting into tears.

“Come here.” Without hesitating, he wrapped Rosaline in his arms and held her in comfort. “I know you do not need me to tell you, but it will get easier.”

She laughed bitterly while allowing him to hold her. “Are you sure of that?”

“I sure hope so,” he sighed, still holding her. “Which is why I tell myself so each day. Nothing like a white lie to help me get out of bed each morning.”

She laughed at the joke, and he could feel her relaxing in his arms.

“Thank you.” Slowly, she peeled herself free from his hug. There were tears in her eyes, but she wore a smile, and it looked genuine. “It was good seeing you, Leonard. Give your family my best.”

“I will,” he said, seeing no need to tell her the current state of his family. “And Rosaline, if you need anything …”

“I won’t hesitate to ask,” she finished for him.

They took a moment to look at one another. Both smiling, the look they shared spoke louder than words could. In Rosaline, Leonard sensed a kindred spirit, someone who was struggling with the sudden expectations forced upon their shoulders, and someone who was just about ready to break, lest that weight be removed.

He wished that he could help her, which he would have done was it not for his own woes, of which there were many.

Leonard left Rosaline soon after, back through the streets, into his carriage, and then home. As he settled, his eyelids drifting closed, he found his mind returning not to what Mr. Lennon had told him, nor to what he and his brother would soon engage in, but Rosaline.

They had been close as children, and he was glad to see that she had blossomed into a beautiful young woman. His only regret was that he could not help her further. 

Perhaps one day I will be able to, but not until I finish helping myself and my family.