The Duke’s Seduction of Lady M. Raven McAllan

in his orbit?

      He might set up a mistress in town, but out here he’d be careful whom he dallied with. Especially one as young as she, who to all intents and purposes was a grieving widow. Oh she’d grieved and would always miss Horry, but as he’d told her on more than one occasion, they had enjoyed good times and all good times came to an end. Horry had instructed her not to go into black, and she’d compromised with navy, greys and purples and now more lilacs, pale greys and soft blues.

      None of which negated the fact that her body stirred when she thought of him. The Duke.

      Mary glanced down at the so-called weed in her hand and realised it was a lettuce. One she’d planted out not a week earlier to create a late salad crop.

      Perhaps it was time to tidy up and forget about the annoying man. He’d had his fun, got her flustered and would now no doubt have forgotten her. Just one more village lady.

      What would the duke think if he knew the meek and quiet Miss Mary Lynch was in face Lady Mary McCoy, widow of Lord Horace McCoy and one of the richest women in the country?

      She wasn’t going to consider that.

      ****

      Brody took his leave of the children, congratulated Miss Grey on her success with the school, then retrieved his empty basket and made his way outside to where Ronald patiently walked the horses.

      ‘My apologies for keeping you waiting. I assure you, I tried for at least ten minutes to depart,’ Brody said as he climbed aboard the curricle and took the reins. ‘Your sister is incredibly persistent once she gets the bit between her teeth. She is most insistent that if any child has a perfect attendance record at the end of this session they should be taken up in my phaeton and tooled around the lanes to end up at the castle thence to enjoy cakes and lemonade.’

      ‘M’lord,’ Ronald sounded mortified. ‘She’s a pest. I hope you gave her what for.’

      Brody laughed. ‘I gave her my word “t’would be thus”.’ He waited until they began the steep haul up the escarpment. ‘For such an impassioned and reasoned plea, she deserves the treat anyway. Who is this Miss Mary?’ He hoped he sounded only mildly interested. It wouldn’t do to show more than that.

      Ronald glanced at him, not a whit perturbed, it seemed, by the abrupt change of subject. ‘All I know is what I told you earlier. She’s well liked, involves herself in village affairs, and puts herself out to be helpful but not encroach.’

      ‘She sounds like a veritable paragon,’ Brody said, somewhat disgruntled by Ronald’s glowing description. She didn’t seem the sort of woman to enjoy a casual coupling. Such a pity, Brody was convinced that fine bosom needed more attention.

      And the rest of her would bear to be inspected as well. God almighty I cannot think like that so close to home. He returned his attention to what Ronald was saying.

      ‘Oh no my lord, no paragon, just a lady.’ The way Ronald spoke made Brody certain the mystery lady was no “Lady”, for which he was thankful. He wanted no truck with young “ladies”, be they earnest and full of good works or not. Somehow, in his past, once they fastened their eyes on him he became their next mission. He had no intention of that happening again. Any interactions would be on his terms.

      ‘They do says she’s got the Grange fine and dandy again,’ Ronald continued as the horses strained to crest the top of the hill and turn along the lane towards the castle. ‘Not that it was a ruin, but like most of us around here allus – always –’ he corrected himself with a bashful grin, ‘– said, it was waiting for something. Young Cissy dotes on her.’

      ‘Seemingly this Miss Mary was just that.’ Brody changed the direction of the curricle to head along the rutted and little used back drive that headed in the directions of the stables. ‘The person needed.’

      After one particularly deep rut Brody swore. He made a note to see the head groundsman with regards to its upkeep. The dozen or so yards from the lane to the gates were almost unusable. ‘A veritable treasure.’ God he sounded crabby. Brody was about to say something – anything – to make amends when Ronald spoke.

      ‘She is that. My Su… well, I mean, Susan, says Miss Mary brought new life into the village what with helping out where needed but never doing more than expected like. Not like that Lady Potter who used to live over Calden way. Nose in the air, lady bountiful, she thought she was. It’s fair to say your ma gave her short shrift. Now your ma, a real lady she is, it shines through her.’ He jumped down from the curricle and began to push open the gates. It wasn’t an easy job; it was obvious this route was rarely used.

      Brody nodded and decided now wasn’t the time to say his mother was plain Miss Pearson, the youngest daughter of a mere Honourable when she met his father. It wasn’t a love match, he knew that. His parents had generally gone their own ways, but he assumed they had liked and respected each other. Plus, as far as he knew, stayed faithful.

      As far as he knew.

      Would he be content with a marriage like that? Even though Brody was sceptical about love – he thought it a mere tidying up of words to make lust more acceptable – he thought not. He enjoyed variety, and although he stayed faithful to whoever he had an arrangement with, for the duration – however long that might be – he had never declared it to be forever.

      Just as Brody thought he might need to go and help Ronald, the youth managed to push the gates ajar far enough for him to get the curricle through. ‘Leave them open, they look ready to fall apart. I’ll get someone to go and speak to the blacksmith later. Is it still Williams?’

      Ronald ran back to join Brody. ‘His son. Old Mr Williams sits in the forge and directs things. Or complains things aren’t what they used to be.’

      It sounded familiar. ‘Tis ever thus.’

      He pondered that thought, along with the knotty problem of how to give his prick relief in a willing body and not by his own hands, as he thanked Ronald, gave into his entreaty to let him sort the horses and equipage out, and slowly made his way indoors.

      It was several hours later before Brody was able to sit in his study and try to make sense of the various ledgers pertaining to the affairs of the estate. Some were straightforward, others less so. In the end he rang the bell for Boleyn.

      When the man entered he waved to a seat facing the desk. ‘These ledgers.’

      Boleyn blinked as he sat down, very primly on the edge of an upright chair. ‘Yes, My Lord?’

      ‘Who decided to set them out like this? In fact let’s go back to basics. Who decided what was important and what not?’

      Boleyn hesitated. ‘Ah…’

      ‘Ah nothing, spit it out,’ Brody said as he curbed his impatience with difficulty. He wasn’t asking the man to explain the royal debt. Now that would be difficult, if not nigh on impossible. ‘As far as I can see everything that has been addressed has been done so properly and I can find no discrepancies. But, oh hell, not to put too fine a point on it, some areas have been ignored and others over addressed. And we’re not making as much profit as I expected. Who chose what direction to go in and why?’

      Boleyn sat up straight. ‘My Lord – Your Grace, i… it’s not for me to say.’

      ‘Rubbish, if you don’t, who will?’ Brody leaned forward. ‘Boleyn, this matters to me. I might have been absent, that couldn’t be helped.’ Well some of it couldn’t, he wasn’t sure about the rest. ‘Now I’m back and contrary to popular idea, more than ready to be involved in my estates.’ He emphasised the word ‘my’ on purpose, to show he was in earnest.

      ‘The factors or estate managers, they’re scared the status quo will be upset and their lives turned upside down.’ Boleyn said. ‘It doesn’t make for a peaceful existence.’

      ‘Which,’ Brody said slowly, ‘I suppose in theory they could be because dammit, man, I am no longer an absentee