A Duke in Turmoil: Dangerous Dukes Vol 9 Read online

  Dangerous Dukes Vol 9

  A Duke in Turmoil

  Wendy Soliman

  Dangerous Dukes Vol 9

  A Duke in Turmoil

  Copyright © Wendy Soliman 2020

  Edited by Perry Iles

  Cover Design by Clockwork Art

  This e-Book is a work of fiction. While references may be made to actual places or events, the names, characters, incidents, and locations contained are from the author’s imagination and are not a resemblance of actual living or dead persons, business, or events. Any similarities are coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any method, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise without the prior written permission of

  The Author – Wendy Soliman

  This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of International Copyright Law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction fines and/or imprisonment. The e-Book cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this e-Book can be shared or reproduced without the express permission of the author.

  Chapter One

  Ross Ellwood, Duke of Alton, lodged a broad shoulder against a wall. Concealed by a convenient pillar from the rapacious gazes of dozens of eager chaperones, he watched the dance in progress but recognised few of the participants. He had been gone from England for too long.

  Not nearly long enough.

  ‘That pillar won’t make you invisible,’ his friend Mark Ritcher warned him. ‘You’re the main attraction, in case you were not aware, and the majority of the females with daughters to marry off have perfected the art of seeing through solid objects.’

  Ross snorted.

  ‘I did warn you. You haven’t set foot in a ballroom since you assumed the dukedom. What else did you expect?’

  ‘I am not here to have my toes trampled on,’ Ross snapped, his gaze still focused on the mosaic of dancers.

  ‘Tell that to the predators.’ Mark nodded towards the chaperones and those of their charges not gracing the floor. It felt to Ross as though they all glanced in his direction when he shifted his position and briefly revealed himself. ‘Take it from me, there are no underhand tactics they won’t employ to get themselves noticed.’ Mark chuckled at Ross’s bemused expression. ‘Welcome back to the land of civilized society.’

  Excitement fuelled the atmosphere but Ross, who was not the most sociable of creatures at the best of times, found it difficult to accept that he was the cause of so much speculation. He had heard his name whispered in reverential tones as though he was some sort of demigod when he’d entered Lady McBride’s sumptuous ballroom. He wanted to rant at society’s elite in an effort to make them understand that he was a man like any other. A man who had been just as disinclined to embrace society before leaving English shores ten years previously. Upon his return he was no less averse to its absurdities and totally unprepared to step into his dead brother’s shoes.

  He was here tonight only because he hoped to learn more about said brother’s untimely demise. Andrew had been trained from the cradle to assume the dukedom, along with its myriad privileges and responsibilities. His life had been cut short in the most brutal fashion, but despite his having been one of the most influential men in England, the authorities didn’t seem any closer to identifying the guilty party. As far as Ross could ascertain, they had no leads at all.

  There was an outside possibility that Andrew’s latest paramour would attend tonight’s gathering, and Ross had an urgent need to speak with her. She had not, Ross knew, been interviewed by the magistrate investigating Andrew’s death, but Ross wouldn’t be so easily deterred.

  ‘Is she here?’ he asked, unaware of what she looked like.

  Mark scanned the crowded room. ‘Can’t see her.’

  ‘Damn! We’re wasting our time.’

  Mark chuckled. ‘Patience never was your strong point.’

  Ross’s scowl intensified. ‘And that surprises you?’

  ‘You might not like your new responsibilities, Ross, but you’re stuck with them. The majority of the men in this room would change places with you in a heartbeat.’

  Ross threw back his head and closed his eyes. ‘Would that one of them could swap with me.’

  ‘Stop feeling so damned sorry for yourself. Your complaints grow tiresome. Scowling in Lady McBride’s ballroom won’t do you any favours. You know what’s expected of you in civilized society, even if you haven’t graced its questionable ranks for a while.’

  Ross sighed. ‘You’re right, as always, and I apologise for snapping. Even so, scowling has its uses,’ he added, as one of the braver chaperones approached with her mousy charge in tow, only to be discouraged by Ross’s savage expression. She clutched a hand to her ample bosom and shepherded the girl away from him again, her tut of disapproval audible even above the din of a cotillion being performed to the accompaniment of loud fiddle-playing. ‘Point proven, I believe.’

  ‘You’re in danger of alienating every leading matron in the ton if you carry on the way you’re going.’

  Ross flexed a brow. ‘Is that such a bad thing?’

  Mark threw up his hands. ‘I’m close to giving up on you. God alone knows why I haven’t done so before now.’

  ‘What’s the point of all this?’ Ross asked, waving a negligent hand in the direction of the ballroom, packed so tight that he was surprised the dancers could get any air into their lungs. ‘It’s all so facile.’

  ‘The marriage mart is a serious business, my friend. You’ve been living amongst savages for too long.’

  ‘Savages, as you refer to them, know how to dance spontaneously,’ Ross replied mildly, wishing he was still among them now.

  Carolina and the opportunities available to those willing to work hard and take risks had been exhilarating. Ross hadn’t been hampered by the expectations that his title and family ties generated in this country. None of his fellow miners knew who he was, or had much cared about the identity of the taciturn Englishman whose ability to find gold in places where others had struck out earned him as many friends as it did enemies.

  His early success had enabled him to purchase the finds made by farmers on their own land, enhancing the fortune he had amassed from scratch, using nothing more than his wits and a stark determination to succeed. All that had come to a sudden and abrupt end upon receipt of a summons, more of a ducal command from his brother, who required him to return to England. Upon arrival he was obliged to shoulder responsibilities he was unprepared and decidedly disinclined to assume when he learned of Andrew’s brutal murder.

  Finding his brother’s killer had become a priority. More than six months had passed since his sudden and violent death. Ross still wore a black armband, even though he’d had little time and no affection for his profligate brother. It acted as a visual reminder that justice must be served; a determination to get to the truth that gave Ross’s altered life some purpose.

  Andrew had left behind a widow and three legitimate children. Ross suspected that there were at least as many more scattered about who were born outside of wedlock, and probably not to the same woman. Andrew had believed in spreading his favours. Ross’s dislike of Emily, the woman Andrew had married as soon as he finished university, was one of the reasons why he had left the country. Without sufficient funds to establish himself independently, and therefore unable to avoid his sister-in-law’s interference in his affairs, Ross had taken control of his own destiny.

  Andrew’s letter came at a time when Ross had decided it was time to leave Carol
ina anyway. He had established himself as a trader and trained trustworthy managers to look after his affairs. The area was wild and Ross had beaten the odds by surviving for ten years, and knew better than to press his luck. His success had created envy and suspicion and he would eventually become a target for the lawless elements to whom life meant little. Besides, Andrew had never begged or shown much interest in Ross, and his curiosity was piqued by this call to family arms.

  Andrew was dead by the time Ross stepped foot on English soil again and he still had no idea why his presence had been so urgently required. He was now the Duke of Alton, whether he liked it or not. Their father had not been well placed and upon his return to Ravenscroft, the ducal seat in Hampshire, it had immediately become apparent from its dilapidated state that Andrew and his spendthrift wife had emptied the Alton coffers of their remaining funds.

  ‘What are we to do?’ he recalled Emily wailing as she clung to Ross’s lapels, clad in deepest black, pretending to be distraught over the death of a husband for whom she had little affection. Ross knew that to be the case since she had tried to tempt him into her bed as soon as he finished university and reluctantly removed himself to Ravenscroft, ready and willing to help Andrew keep their estate profitable. It was her unconscionable behaviour and Andrew’s disinterest in anything other than hedonistic pleasures of his own that had driven Ross from England.

  Fate had now conspired to bring him home to assume all his brother’s responsibilities, including the welfare for his widow and her three daughters. Under the circumstances, he felt he had just cause to scowl, society’s mores be damned. Why the devil couldn’t Andrew at least have fathered a son? But then again, had he done so, Ross would have been obliged to act in loco parentis until the boy came of age. And Emily’s status as the boy’s mother would have made it impossible for Ross to dispense with her interfering ways.

  Perhaps there was a god.

  ‘There are easier ways to speak with Maria Kennard, given that you cannot bring yourself to be sociable,’ Mark suggested. ‘Have you considered simply calling and leaving your card at her uncle and aunt’s abode? Not that she has shown her face anywhere for a while. No one’s seen hide nor hair of her, but I did hear rumours that she planned to attend this evening, which is why I alerted you to the fact. Anyway, I still say it would have been easier for you to call upon her. I imagine she’s in private mourning for Andrew, but I dare say she would have received you.’

  ‘I want to catch her unawares. To observe her and get a feel for her character without her realising it.’

  Mark gave a resigned huff. ‘So you keep saying, but I still fail to understand what you hope to gain from surprising her. If she had somehow colluded in Andrew’s demise—which I very much doubt—then she’s hardly likely to admit it.’

  Ross spread his hands and sighed. ‘When you put it like that, it does seem rather pointless, but I’ve run out of other ideas.’

  ‘Andrew’s murder might simply be what it appears to be. He ventured out alone at night and was set upon. It happens.’

  Ross grunted. ‘Perhaps, but I remain to be convinced. As to Miss Kennard, given the ridiculous rules of conduct that govern the behaviour of young unmarried women in this bear pit, I’m surprised at the stories that have reached my ears regarding her conduct. Whatever can her aunt and uncle have been thinking, letting her run so wild?’

  ‘She will tell you that she’s a free spirit.’

  Ross curled his upper lip disdainfully. ‘She would have been better advised to get a man’s ring on her finger before showing her true character, much as Emily did as soon as Andrew offered her the respectability of his name. Married women are permitted a certain latitude in that regard, or so I’m told.’ He shrugged. ‘But it sounds to me as though Andrew and Maria were ideal bedfellows—quite literally.’

  ‘They were, and brazen about it despite the fact that she was promised elsewhere, which makes me wonder why you are so determined to think that she had a hand in your brother’s murder. She was besotted with Andrew, had nothing to gain from his death and is reputed to be distraught.’

  ‘Perhaps Purvis got to hear of her escapades and had something to say on the matter.’

  Mark waved the suggestion aside. ‘Purvis is a spineless dandy with more money than sense. He was the only man in London who didn’t seem to know what his intended was up to.’ Mark shook his head emphatically. ‘If anyone arranged Andrew’s death, you’d be better advised to look Emily’s way. Andrew was discreet in his liaisons, at least after a fashion, until he met Maria. Then all sense of propriety was swept aside. He was totally infatuated, told the world and his wife that Maria was beyond compare and Emily was in danger of being made a laughing-stock.’

  Ross rubbed his chin in thoughtful contemplation. ‘Hmm.’

  ‘Even so, I still think he was killed by a stranger. Andrew was wandering about London, in his cups, alone at night when he met his end. No one could have anticipated him doing something so out of character and lain in wait for him. He was set upon by the sort of opportunist criminals who frequent the streets after dark and stabbed for his valuables. He’d been stripped of his coat and boots and just about anything that could be sold for a few shillings, as you are well aware. Sorry to be so blunt, Ross, but facts have to be faced. That hardly sounds like a woman’s crime.’

  ‘Perhaps Andrew decided to throw Maria over if Emily confronted him and made threats.’

  ‘What sort of threats?’

  ‘I have absolutely no idea, but you’re right to say that she wouldn’t have accepted being made to look like a fool. Emily enjoys the cachet connected to her position as a duchess. Andrew was no saint, and if she threatened to publicly reveal something to his detriment he would have been forced into a corner and have had no choice but to end the relationship with Maria. That raises the question of what Maria expected to gain from the affair. As you also rightly say, an unmarried woman publicly consorting with a married duke will have compromised her reputation. If said duke then implied that her charms had waned and she had sacrificed her all for no reward…’ Ross paused to reflect. ‘We don’t know what promises Andrew made her, or what assurances he gave.’

  ‘Good heavens! You make it sound as though he was contemplating divorce. Surely he wouldn’t go that far? The disgrace.’ Mark looked shocked. ‘Despite his best efforts to drag the duchy through the mud, Andrew was still very conscious of his position within society.’

  ‘Which would have taken his side, despite the scandal of a divorce. He was desperate for an heir, but Emily couldn’t have any more children. He told me so in the last letter that reached me.’

  ‘Now I begin to understand your concern.’ Mark looked disturbed. ‘Even so, Maria is damaged goods. The ladies are all delighted by her fall from grace and the men hope to pick up where Andrew left off, so I hardly think she will show her face here tonight, despite rumours to the contrary.’

  ‘She will if she’s as brazen as I’ve been led to believe.’ Ross lifted a broad shoulder. ‘What other choice does she have?’

  ‘We shall see. But in the meantime, you will have to remove yourself to the card room if you don’t want to be besieged.’ Mark’s warning roused Ross from the brown study he’d fallen into. ‘The most determined are galvanising themselves,’ he added, nodding towards a couple of matrons heading their way.

  ‘This is a waste of time,’ Ross replied. ‘She clearly isn’t coming. Let’s leave.’

  A commotion at the entrance to the ballroom caught their attention.

  ‘That’s her sister, Sophia,’ Mark said, jerking upright.

  Ross glanced across the room, prepared to dislike what he saw, and instead found himself holding back a gasp. The young woman who appeared to have effortlessly secured the attention of half the men in the room was a vision. If her sister was even half as handsome then Ross could understand why Andrew had lost all sense of proportion over her. But the question still remained; had his fixation galvanised Emily
into making threats, or had Maria taken exception to being thrown over—always supposing that she had been—and arranged her own form of revenge?

  ‘Is that her uncle and aunt with her?’ Ross asked, his attention still fixed upon Sophia, who breathed new life into a dreary occasion. In spangled silver over bronze silk, russet curls artfully arranged to dance on her bare shoulders, Ross was captivated by what he saw.

  ‘Yes,’ Mark replied. ‘I can’t see Maria anywhere. Presumably she has had the decency to remain in seclusion.’ He chuckled. ‘Or perhaps she heard that you want words with her.’

  ‘She cannot know that I have been looking for her,’ Ross replied casually, his gaze still fixed on Sophia’s elfin features. Even at a distance, it was obvious that she was a rare beauty with a certain style and presence that set her apart.

  ‘Use what sense God granted you!’ Mark huffed impatiently. ‘Maria made an exhibition of herself with Andrew. That is beyond dispute. But she was also promised in marriage to Purvis at the time. Perhaps he isn’t as gormless as he makes himself seem. Maybe it was him who stuck your brother through with a dagger in that dark alley.’

  ‘I haven’t met the man myself but the investigating magistrate spoke with him. He claims that he released Maria from their engagement once word of her behaviour reached his mother’s ears on their Yorkshire estate,’ Ross replied. ‘I gather she didn’t approve of the match, but her ordinarily compliant son dug his heels in, until she blotted her copybook and even Purvis could no longer defend her behaviour. Makes you wonder. Anyway, he’s a gentleman. If he was that concerned about his intended’s behaviour, he would have called Andrew out.’

  ‘Perhaps he did.’

  Ross transferred his full attention to Mark. ‘You are suggesting that Andrew was too cowardly to take up a thrown gauntlet?’ he asked without rancour. ‘Speak freely without fear of offending. Your opinion of my brother’s character cannot possibly be any worse than my own.’