The Contract Duchess, a Regency Romance: Key To My Heart Book 1

Chapter 3 - Derrick

Derrick arrived home chilled to the bone but still bothered by the reading. Only his haste to reach the comfort of his father's - his - study prevented him from following through on his destruction of the portrait in the hall.

There's always tomorrow, he thought grimly.

Resting in front of the fire with a snifter of brandy warmed his body, but his mind still reeled. He knew marriage was inevitable for the sole heir of a family fortune, but he had imagined many more years of bachelorhood made more entertaining by the possession of a title. He now had a month to prepare for a wedding, and a bedding ceremony shortly thereafter.

He shook his head and rose to pace around the small room. Though unusual, the requirement for witnesses to the consummation was not completely unexpected. He had witnessed his father creating many agreements in this very study to get what he wanted, agreements whose conditions were so detailed and personal so as to discourage their dissolution. This was no different. No, it was not the prospect of the bedding ceremony that perturbed him. The marriage itself drew his ire.

If he had already been engaged or at least courting, the provision in the will would have made some sense. However, if anyone could know and understand his desire to delay marriage and his vow to avoid love, it would have been his father. After all, he had not married Derrick's mother until he was eight and thirty, almost ten years older than Derrick himself.

Further, his father never expounded on the joys of a wife and child in his son's hearing; he had preferred not to talk about his family life at all unless asked, and then with only the briefest of statements. Yet the man thought the best time to show his high opinion of family life was after death by forcing his own son into the role of a husband and father. Add to that the blow of coming face to face with his childhood friend in her current condition, and it was little wonder that Derrick wished he could do away with his father's regal portrait.

"Ahem, sir."

Derrick focused on the firm quiet voice that interrupted his solitude and halted his movement. Knowing it to be his long-suffering butler and occasional confidant, he took a deep breath before turning to face the man.

"Yes, Will?" he answered.

"Sir, if I may, what is upsetting you so? I have not seen you in such a temper since that groom ran your best horse until he fell and broke his leg. Even His Lordship's death did not provoke you in this way. Can I be of assistance?" Will's words were tinged with warmth, and his face displayed a somewhat unprofessional level of sympathy.

Derrick sighed and flopped carelessly into the nearest seat, a large emerald green wingback chair so ugly that this may have been the first time it had been used. So violent was his action, the chair moved at least an inch backwards, as though shrinking from him. Would Angie soon be the same?

"Will, I find myself in a cage of my father's making. Either I agree to his terms and my way of life is altered forever to retain the family title, or else I continue my life as I have been doing, but with no title or lands to recommend me to Society anymore. It seems an impossible choice; either way I lose something that feels like a vital part of my being. I anticipated now being a Duke unfettered; instead I find myself choosing whether my fetters will be iron or bronze."

When Will inquired about details, Derrick found himself laying out every detail of the reading to him, to the devil with propriety. It felt good to get it all out of his head and into the ears of a friendly but unattached third party. When it was done, he closed his eyes and let the chair take the weight of his head.

He was wrung out, and it was barely noon. Soon he would have a copy of the will's requirements to read with his own eyes. Then he would have to choose, either to marry Angie, or to move out of the home where he had expected to raise his own children someday, never to return.

Will remained silent for some time, perhaps as puzzled by this new conundrum as much as his master. Finally he spoke. "I see only one clear path to choose, my lord."

Derrick sat up straight and stared at his butler. "Only one?" he questioned. "And which path would that be, pray tell?" He hated the obvious note of disbelief that colored his response, but was unable to prevent it. How could Will say this?

A soft smile curled the corners of the butler's thin lips before he said, "The clearest path is to gain some more information about Miss Angela, of course. Perhaps getting to know her again will ease your confusion and enable you to be comfortable with whatever choice you make." Will met Derrick's gaze with a twinkle in his own. "After all, you were fast friends once. Wouldn't it be nice to know if your friendship might be renewed before deciding whether to spend the rest of your lives together?"

Derrick chuckled. He could always count on Will for a different perspective on a problem. His words made perfect sense, and with them, Will began to formulate a plan to follow his advice.

He bolted to his feet and clapped Will on the back in appreciation before returning to the desk. There he pulled out a quill, a bottle of fine ink, paper and a blotter. In short order, he dashed off a letter to his father's lawyer, outlining his plan to court Miss Hollins for a couple of weeks to get to know her again prior to any wedding plans. He also wrote a letter to his own solicitor summarizing what had happened.

The last letter took more time than the others combined, but was the shortest missive of the three. It read:

My Dear Angie,

It was a shock to see you today, after so many years apart. I pray you can forgive my manners there; I was completely taken aback at my father's instructions and forgot myself for a few minutes. My discomfort had nothing to do with you, my friend.

I have long sought to find out what happened to you since I returned from school, and I am most pleasantly surprised to have found you again.

I would like to have tea with you this afternoon, if you are agreeable. Please respond with a time and place you deem suitable. I look forward to your reply.

Your friend always,

Derrick

He hesitated before sealing the letter and adding it to the stack of correspondence. He hoped it wasn't too forward, but yet also honest enough to assure her of his good intentions. He couldn't decide if he was more excited or apprehensive about this encounter with Angie, but he knew Will was right: the only way to start a journey was to take the first step, and the first step was to talk to Angie.