How to Fool a Duke (The Husband Dilemma #1) - Lancaster, Mary Page 0,25
see.” With that, he stepped back and bowed, then strode jauntily away, letting himself out of the cottage. She even heard him whistling as he strode off up the street.
Chapter Six
“You are rather satisfied this morning, considering what befell you last night, Your Grace,” Lady Whitmore said as Leonard placed his breakfast plate, piled high with scrambled eggs, sausage, and bacon, on the table. “Are you back in the game?”
The duke glanced about the comfortable room, finding only two footmen present, then gazed at her, unafraid to speak frankly. “I have left that decision to your lovely guest.”
“You went to see her this morning?”
“I did.”
“And how would you describe her state of mind?” Lady Whitmore dipped her toast into her cup of coffee, then nibbled on the end of the bread.
“Conflicted.”
Lady Whitmore smiled. “I am happy to hear it.”
“You wish Miss Sarah to be unsettled?”
“It gives me hope, Your Grace, that all the time she has spent here has not been wasted. If she appears conflicted, it means her conscience is bothering her. Revenge is a heavy burden to carry around for one so young. Her first instinct is to protect herself against you, and she did what she thought best at the height of emotions. But after having a night to contemplate her actions, she has shown that she owns a woman’s heart.”
“That remains to be seen,” he jested.
Lady Whitmore tsked at him.
“Forgive me,” he said. “I am overly excited about the possibilities of what we will find once we start excavating today.”
“Ah, you are a true scientist. Something I admire.”
“Have you considered our earlier discussion? Is there a parcel of land or cottage you would consider selling me, Lady Whitmore? Though an estate or a small farm appeals to me, I wish to stay as close to the digging site as I can.”
She studied his face silently, drinking her coffee and finishing her second piece of toast before she spoke again. “Do you know how I came to inherit Whitmore, Your Grace?”
“I am curious, for it is a substantial property for a woman to own.”
“Yes, fifteen thousand acres in total, and the castle.” She leaned forward, fire in her eyes. “My father sired no sons. But he loved his daughters fiercely. As the eldest, Whitmore, unentailed of course, was always meant for me. Even when I married, my father made sure this property could never be taken away from me.”
“Only a shrewd man with significant wealth could achieve such a legal feat.”
“Yes. There are loopholes in the law that provide women with property rights if her family is determined and well-connected.”
“And your sisters?”
“I have three surviving sisters.”
“Were they as fortunate as you?”
“Oh, yes. Father gifted them with prosperous estates, too. My family has strong ties with the Norse, Your Grace. Northern England is filled with our history and kin.” She smiled.
“Do you have children of your own?”
The question went unanswered, for his hostess seemed haunted by something as she stared out the window that provided a view of the sea.
“Lady Whitmore?”
“A son,” she spoke up unexpectedly.
“He must be very proud of the work you do here.”
“Unfortunately, he has never met me. We were separated when he was only three, and I have not seen or communicated with him since then.” She gazed into his eyes, the same way she had stared out across the sea.
The story pierced his heart, for what son would not want to be with her? “I am sorry for your loss.”
Leonard understood the suffering that went along with being deprived of a beloved parent. His mother had died not long after giving birth to him. As for his father, he had kept a mistress but had never expressed an interest in marrying again. They were not particularly close, but when together, they did have a mutual respect for one another. When the old duke died, it had hurt him deeply.
In defense of the woman he had grown to admire on his short visit, he said, “Is there anything I can do to assist you in reuniting with your son?”
Her eyes grew wide. “You would do that for me?”
“Madam,” he said resolutely, “I am your servant.”
Tears filled her eyes, and she dabbed at them with her linen napkin. “Excuse me, Your Grace, I am not usually this sentimental.” She sniffed delicately and cleared her throat, then took a deep, restorative breath. “I believe you asked if I was willing to part with a piece of my land?”
“Yes, but that can wait, Lady Whitmore.”
“I am only