The Duke's Quandary Read Free

ability to carry out her duties. Love will not be a factor.”
    “As much as I long for grandchildren, don’t be hasty in your selection, dear. Marriage lasts a long time, and very few things in life can make you more miserable than an unhappy union. Goodness knows you’ve seen enough of them in the ton .” She patted his cheek. “In any event, I have come to request a favor.”
    “If it involves a new wardrobe, just have them send the bills.” He climbed to his feet and returned to his chair, regarding her with fondness deepened from years of motherly concern. She always did the right thing—at least in public—but she was much too softhearted and, in his opinion, wavered from her ducal position too often.
    He wanted a wife who would comport herself at all times. Even in the bedchamber. Passion was for mistresses, not wives. He expected his duchess to behave in a way that would allow him freedom to perform his duties and responsibilities without concern about how the household ran, the children were reared, and entertainments were organized. Yes, he would start his search soon.
    Shaking himself from his musing, he asked, “What is the favor?”
    His mother withdrew a slip of paper from her pocket. “My longtime friend, Lady Bellinghan, has requested that we take her niece under our wing this Season to present her. A Miss Penelope Clayton.”
    Drake raised his eyebrows.
    “The young lady is the only child of Phoebe’s sister, who passed away a few hours after Miss Clayton was born. They resided in America—Boston, I believe—until the girl’s father died in an accident. At that time, with war imminent, her guardian insisted she return to England immediately. She’s been residing at an estate in Devonshire for nearly three years.”
    “Go on. I’m still not sure what this favor is. It sounds as though Mary or one of the other girls should help with this.”
    “True, they will be helpful. But there are issues.”
    “Issues?”
    “Lady Bellinghan writes that her niece is a bit different.”
    A small kernel of unrest settled in Drake’s middle. “Indeed? Different in what way?”
    “I’m not exactly sure. It seems this young lady has never spent much time outside of her home.”
    “Is she. . .”
    “A candidate for Bedlam? No. The girl is a botanist.”
    “The study of plants?”
    His mother gave a half smile. “Yes, apparently.”
    “A regular bluestocking, eh? In any event, I’m still awaiting this favor.”
    “I will sponsor her coming out, of course, and the girls will assist. But it is your aid that will help this girl the most.”
    “Mine?” The kernel of unrest grew. Mother was known for her good works and taking needy young ladies under her wing. As if seeing five daughters to womanhood wasn’t enough.
    “You have your title and a great deal of influence. You also know many suitable young men. Lady Bellinghan writes that in addition to her unusual occupation, Miss Clayton is shy and retiring.”
    Drake dropped his head into his hands and groaned. “I do not wish to play nursemaid. I’ve told you it is my intention to find a bride myself this Season.”
    His mother stood and approached him, cupping his face in her hands. “You have become much too stiff since your father’s accident. I know this is a great deal of responsibility for you, and, like the rest of us, you didn’t plan on assuming the duties of a duke for many years. But Drake, don’t let the title define the man.”
    “What is that supposed to mean?”
    “It means, my dearest son, I do not wish to see a stranger sitting in this chair. You have always been thoughtful and compassionate. I could always count on you to be kind. I need that man to return to us.”
    “I haven’t changed!”
    “Sadly, you have. Permit me this one favor.” She returned to her seat and took up the paper again. “I doubt very much if Miss Clayton will consume much of your time. Just be gentle with her and see that she enjoys her Season.