A Duke in Time (The Widow Rules #1) - Janna MacGregor Page 0,44
another fingerful, then returned to Christian’s side. “No. I’m needed at the estate.” He exhaled, the sound tinted with frustration. “I work in the fields right alongside my tenants. Honestly, some days I want to leave the place and never return. But that wouldn’t be fair to all those families who lived and worked on the land for generations.”
The grimace on Grayson’s face meant he was running out of options. Due to his father’s bad investments, Grayson worked day and night trying to find enough money to keep his marquessate from falling into insolvency.
“My offer of a loan still stands,” Christian offered.
“No, I cannot do it. I don’t know if or when I could ever repay you. I wouldn’t take advantage of our friendship.” Grayson took another sip of brandy.
“I could offer you money as an investor in your experiments.”
His friend shook his head. “It’s still too risky. Harnessing steam into powering engines is my dream. There’s a bigger thrill in making electricity and capturing it in a bottle than running a dusty, dirty estate. But like you, I have other responsibilities.”
“If you decide otherwise, the offer will always stand,” Christian said.
“Thank you.” Grayson grew quiet, then sat of the edge of his seat, devoting his full attention to Christian. “It wasn’t until last month I heard of Meri’s demise. I’m sorry.”
Christian nodded. “Because of his passing, I have no heir. Another responsibility that needs to be addressed. The duchy isn’t my only priority. But it’s the only one tainted by my father and his second wife.”
Grayson lifted an eyebrow in challenge. “Really? That’s what you think? You have the ability to craft the duchy into anything you want. It’s not tainted—only you think that.”
With a dismissive grunt, Christian looked away.
Grayson laughed. “It’ll thrive when you turn your attention to the dukedom. You’re a natural at managing large endeavors. Look at how you led your troops on the battlefield. You know how to organize people for a common goal. Besides, you were groomed for the task from birth.”
A log broke, sending sparks up the flue. A peaceable silence descended between them.
“Welcome home, Christian.” He held up his glass in a toast. “To you, my friend.”
“Thank you.” Christian held up his own glass. He took a sip, then exhaled as he examined the leaded crystal glass in his hand. “I’m glad you’re here. Meri left me with a situation that makes his most outrageous escapades look like a Sunday church service.”
“Poison Blossom?”
Christian groaned. “You heard?”
“All of London is agog as to what you’re going to do with her. Half the racing community is taking up collections to see if they can buy her from you.”
“The situation I’m referring to is more than a pregnant racehorse. Today, I received another bequest from my half brother, the deed to a small apartment.”
“Might come in handy,” Grayson quipped.
“Apparently, he had a paramour,” Christian answered. “She sent a letter this morning.” He picked up the note that arrived with a scented handkerchief enclosed. “She said it was Meri’s wish that she offer her services for the entire month, but only if I would allow her to stay in the apartment.”
His friend’s eyes grew round. “What? He gave you his mistress?”
Christian leaned back in the chair and glanced sideways at Grayson. “Hmm, yes. He signed a contract for a year’s worth of her services. For the first time in his life, he paid in advance. He must have finally won a race. There’s still a month left in their arrangement.”
Grayson whistled slightly.
“There was only one decision.” Christian shrugged, then took the seat opposite the marquess. He wanted to be able to see every reaction that clouded his friend’s face when he told the entire tale. “I immediately instructed Hanes to end the contract but allow her to keep the apartment. She’s free to find another benefactor. I don’t need that type of gift. Can you imagine how society would view me if they knew that Meri had given me his paramour?” He rested his elbows on his knees and caught his friend’s gaze. “There’s more.”
“His wife knows about the mistress?”
“No,” Christian said. “None of the wives know about her. Thank God.”
Grayson choked on a sip of brandy. Once his coughing fit stopped, he wiped his eyes with a handkerchief he pulled from his pocket. “Pardon me. I didn’t hear you correctly.”
“You did. I said ‘wives,’ as in more than one.”
Grayson simply stared at him in disbelief. After a moment, he spoke. “Bloody hell, Christian. Tell me.”