The Scandalous Love of a Duke. Jane Lark

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       Chapter One

       London, April, four months later

      John’s ship docked in London just as twilight darkened into night. A light drizzle was falling as he descended from the gangplank.

      England.

      It was over seven years since he’d stood on English soil. It felt odd stepping onto the dock; like travelling back in time.

      He remembered the callow youth who’d left here. He wasn’t that child anymore.

      One of the crew had called a hackney carriage. It waited before him, its oil lamp glowing into the now full darkness. He gave the address to the driver then climbed in. A few moments after he’d clicked the door shut, the carriage jarred into movement, rocking over the cobbles.

      He’d not sent word ahead. There’d seemed little point when he’d arrive just as fast.

      He lifted the curtain and looked at the passing streets.

      They’d left the narrow backstreets of the slums near the docks and now they were progressing into the more affluent areas of London.

      He’d had months to get used to the idea of coming home. He had accepted it. But it did not mean he was looking forward to it. He would be weighed down by duty here.

      John’s heart drummed steadily in his chest. Was his grandfather alive or dead?

      The carriage turned a sharp corner and John caught hold of the leather strap.

      The streets were quiet, virtually dead. Early evening in Mayfair was not a social hour. People would be dining now, before they went out. All John could hear was the sound of the carriage horses and iron-rimmed wheels on cobble.

      He didn’t even know if his family were here, but he was heading for his grandfather’s townhouse. It seemed the best place to start.

      A few minutes later, the hired carriage drew to a halt and John looked from the window at his grandfather’s palatial town residence. It was set back from the road and guarded by iron railings, taking up one entire side of the square.

      John had found it oppressive as a child. As a youth he’d been more impressed. As a man it simply seemed ostentatious.

      John climbed out onto the pavement.

      He’d left his luggage at the docks to be sent on.

      The light drizzle had not eased.

      He paid the driver.

      The man tipped his hat.

      John looked up at the house as the hackney pulled away. The knocker was in place, someone was home.

      He took a deep breath and then jogged up the pale stone steps. When he reached the top he lifted the lion-head brass knocker and struck it down thrice, then stepped back a little and waited.

      It was several moments before it opened.

      Finch, the man who’d been his grandfather’s butler for as long as John could remember, stood in the hall. John watched recognition, and then shock, dawn on the butler’s face. He’d never seen Finch’s upper lip show any expression before.

      “Good Lord – I mean come in, my Lord. You were not expected?”

      “No, I travelled at the same speed as any message; I saw no point in sending word. My luggage will follow. Tell me, who is currently at home?” He already knew his grandfather yet survived, otherwise Finch would have said Your Grace.

      “Their Graces, the Duke and Duchess, my Lord, and the Duke and Duchess of Arundel.” His grandparents then, and his uncle and aunt. John’s heart pounded. Finch then nodded to a footman, obviously sending him somewhere to announce John’s arrival. But even as he did so there was a shout from above.

      “John.”

      He looked up as his name echoed off the black and white marble beneath his feet and the decorative plaster all about him, and saw his Uncle Richard, the Duke of Arundel, descending the wide curving stone steps briskly. This man had been like a father to John before John’s mother had come back. But he had aged. His hair was peppered with grey and his face more lined.

      “Thank God. We had no idea if you had even received Edward’s letter.” John saw relief in his uncle’s eyes as he neared and then he smiled. “It is good to have you home, John.”

      John met Richard at the bottom of the stairs, and took his hand to shake it, but Richard also gripped John’s shoulder. An uncomfortable feeling tingled through John’s nerves. He was unused to being touched. No one had touched him in four years.

      “You have changed, John. Grown up, I suppose.”

      “Uncle—” John began, only to have his speech halted by a wave of his uncle’s hand.

      “No uncle, just Richard now we are both men.”

      John smiled, “Richard, it is good to see a familiar face. The journey was long and I’ve no idea of how things stand.” How is the Duke? He didn’t say the last, he didn’t know how to.

      “Things stand not well, John.” Richard slung an arm about John’s shoulders and drew him to the stairs. “I’ll take you up. The family will be pleased to see you, your mother particularly.”

      “And my grandfather?” John had to ask.

      “He is near the end,” Richard answered, his arm falling as they began climbing the stairs. “He has been holding on for your return, I think. He will want to speak to you at once. I’ll tell him you are here. He is much changed, John. He’s been ill for many months.”

      John nodded sharply, angry at the emptiness in his chest and the anxiety stirring in his stomach. For God’s sake, I am a man full-grown now. I need not fear him.

      “Why not wait with your grandmother and Penny. They will be overjoyed you’re home. I’ll come and fetch you.” His uncle must have seen something of John’s feelings.

      John felt like the child he’d been when he’d left. The child his uncle had always seemed to pity. He nodded, though, and walked on along the familiar hall as Richard turned the other way.

      John’s head was suddenly full of pictures from the past. The most acute СКАЧАТЬ