How to Fool a Duke (The Husband Dilemma #1) - Lancaster, Mary Page 0,41

to whom you speak, Mr. Jenkins.”

“I do not!” The smaller man had a temper. “It is for her I speak, sir.”

Leonard’s contempt eased. “Why does she need such protection?”

“A lack of discretion over thirty years ago cost her more than any woman should have to pay for love.”

“Love?” The duke swallowed the word, rolled it around inside his overworked mind, knowing what it felt like to love—to want—to need someone so bad it inspired one to break all the rules. “Tell me everything.”

“Her marriage was not a love match, sir, far from it. The duke, your father, was owed a great debt from Lady Whitmore’s father, Lord Fordenham, and in order to protect his holdings, he gave the duke first choice in marrying one of his three daughters. Julia—Lady Whitmore—was beautiful, intelligent, and spirited—the type of woman any man would want. The duke chose her, though she had been secretly engaged for a year to Lord Redding, the son of a Spanish prince and grandson to the Marquess of Sedwick.”

Leonard’s heart raced, his hands fisted at his sides. “Continue, sir.”

“Lady Whitmore adored her father and would do anything to please him and to keep her family safe. She married the duke, but after she gave birth to her son, she could no longer live the life she had been forced into and fled with Lord Redding to Spain. For six years they lived in banishment from England, but in love and happiness before he died tragically of consumption.”

“Did they…” Leonard could not say it, could not ask if his mother had given birth to a bastard.

“Children?”

The duke nodded.

“Yes, a daughter.”

“I… I have a sister?” The news hit him so hard, he was forced to sit down again. “Where is she?”

“France.”

Leonard gazed at Mr. James. “Whatever it takes, find her and bring her home.”

“Your Grace,” the solicitor said, “have you considered the consequences of putting your own needs ahead of Lady Whitmore’s?”

“You will refer to her as my mother, Her Grace, the dowager Duchess of Vexen, when in my presence.”

“Yes—your mother.”

“I have not had the time to think about anything critically, Mr. Jenkins, except that your services are no longer required by me. You played both sides of the cards, so to speak, and I am most disgusted by your ability to do so.”

“But…” he sputtered.

“Do not worry, Mr. Jenkins, your livelihood is not in danger. I will handle this situation with utmost discretion. However, you will not receive a letter of recommendation from me, and I am sure your firm will wonder why they have lost one of their best clients.”

“The firm was paid handsomely to keep this secret, Your Grace.”

That made Leonard growl. “Get out before I change my mind and break you in half.”

The solicitor grabbed up his leather satchel in haste and rushed out of the cottage, leaving Leonard in a fog of anger and wonder. He had a living, breathing mother. A sister. And a woman he wanted to marry. Damn his luck—nothing worth having was ever easy.

***

After a long silence, James made one effort to speak. “Mr. Jenkins would actually be the best assistant in finding your sister.”

Leonard sprang to his feet, gesturing dismissal with one hand. He didn’t want to storm out of the castle, but suddenly he could not breathe. He could not yet debate whether or not he had behaved badly, whether or not his parents had. He just needed fresh air and solitude to absorb everything he had learned.

As he strode across the hall to the front door, he was vaguely aware of Lady Whitmore—his mother, the duchess—hovering, waiting. He could not speak to her, not now. He pretended not to see her and walked straight outside into the rain.

Thank God they had covered the pits at his digging site. But even for this, he could spare no focused thought. He pounded across the countryside, even breaking into a run, as though the exercise could expel the emotions tearing him apart.

Panting for breath, dripping wet, he skirted the village, realizing at last what an odd figure he would present to any observers. But it seemed his feet knew where to go, for he soon found himself in the lane that ran behind Sarah’s cottage.

Only at the back gate did he hesitate. Instinct had drawn him here, but he was in no state to make morning calls, let alone continue their ridiculous game. And yet, his feet led him on to the kitchen door, where he rapped loudly.

The maid would send him