Chapter One
Mistakes seemed to be the Earl of Ridgley’s forte.
Especially as they pertained to one woman—the Duchess of
Hammond.
Sebastian Traynor would have scoffed at anyone’s attempt to
call him a romantic, but he was. Since he’d first met Grace Oliver, née Lawton,
she’d wielded an unnatural and unknowing hold over him. His foolish younger
self had not recognized such feelings would not be assuaged by the number of
women he bedded.
Knocking on her door a year and half after the Duke of
Hammond had expired was also a mistake, but that didn’t stop him from gripping
the knocker and pounding it against the double wooden doors.
The bigger mistake had been not fighting for her when her
family had pressured her into marrying a title, a man with substantially more
wealth and prestige, while he had been the second son of an earl. The death of
both his father and older brother had made many things possible. Unfortunately
she had been married for years by then and he had to watch her from afar.
The estate in remote Cornwall had been over a week’s journey
in intermittently bad weather. There had been plenty of opportunities to turn
back. He had not seen her since the beginning of London’s Season last spring,
after which she had gone into seclusion. Mourning had nothing to do with her
withdrawal from society, though those who wanted to believe Grace had some
remnants of respect for her husband were free to believe so.
Gossip meant nothing to him unless there were whispers about
her.
And the whispers were that she had been horribly scarred
after her drunken bastard of a husband had smashed a bottle of port against her
face. Sebastian confirmed the truth by dispatching his man of affairs to
Hammond House as soon as he had heard. By then the duchess had gone. The duke
had died a week later in a gambling row, fittingly with a knife in his craw.
The sordid details had developed into the scandal of last year’s Season.
The tragedy could have been made worse only had Hammond
killed her, though perhaps Grace wished she were dead if she took such drastic
measures to hide herself from the world.
When his carriage had pulled to a stop and he had
disembarked, Sebastian felt the stirrings of sorrow. The estate was quiet—a
massive Palladian mansion nestled in a bank of oak trees. One would expect the
bustle and grandeur of such a place to overtake any sense of emotion except
awe, but it was there—solitude bordering on sadness. Only a stable hand had
hurried out to meet the carriage and four.
Had she gone mad out here in this godforsaken wilderness?
The portal opened a moment later just as he was ready to rap
the door a second time.
“My lord.” The majordomo bowed and swung the door wide.
“Might I be of assistance?”
“I’m here to see the Duchess of Hammond.” He withdrew his
card with the single word Ridgley emblazoned and centered in the middle,
dropping it to a salver.
The new duke, a military man with a decent head on his
shoulders, was still unmarried, though he had been inundated with potential
candidates during the Season. Sebastian had made it his business to converse
with the new duke but his taciturnity made rocks seem talkative. What he’d
garnered, to his relief, indicated Grace was not completely fragile.
“I regret Her Grace is indisposed.”
Of course, he had expected as much. It was part of the reason
he had arrived just as the sun was setting. “Would there be a time tomorrow
more convenient?”
“I am afraid not, Lord Ridgley.”
“Would you please let Her Grace know I am here? I daresay
the return trip to London is lengthy and I do not wish to leave without seeing
her.” Short of force, he would be required to defer to her wishes.
And her desire to be left alone had been very clear to all
of her friends who had trekked to Cornwall to visit, with the obvious exception
of her sisters. But none of the other visitors had the same determination or
motivation. They weren’t in
Mistakes seemed to be the Earl of Ridgley’s forte.
Especially as they pertained to one woman—the Duchess of
Hammond.
Sebastian Traynor would have scoffed at anyone’s attempt to
call him a romantic, but he was. Since he’d first met Grace Oliver, née Lawton,
she’d wielded an unnatural and unknowing hold over him. His foolish younger
self had not recognized such feelings would not be assuaged by the number of
women he bedded.
Knocking on her door a year and half after the Duke of
Hammond had expired was also a mistake, but that didn’t stop him from gripping
the knocker and pounding it against the double wooden doors.
The bigger mistake had been not fighting for her when her
family had pressured her into marrying a title, a man with substantially more
wealth and prestige, while he had been the second son of an earl. The death of
both his father and older brother had made many things possible. Unfortunately
she had been married for years by then and he had to watch her from afar.
The estate in remote Cornwall had been over a week’s journey
in intermittently bad weather. There had been plenty of opportunities to turn
back. He had not seen her since the beginning of London’s Season last spring,
after which she had gone into seclusion. Mourning had nothing to do with her
withdrawal from society, though those who wanted to believe Grace had some
remnants of respect for her husband were free to believe so.
Gossip meant nothing to him unless there were whispers about
her.
And the whispers were that she had been horribly scarred
after her drunken bastard of a husband had smashed a bottle of port against her
face. Sebastian confirmed the truth by dispatching his man of affairs to
Hammond House as soon as he had heard. By then the duchess had gone. The duke
had died a week later in a gambling row, fittingly with a knife in his craw.
The sordid details had developed into the scandal of last year’s Season.
The tragedy could have been made worse only had Hammond
killed her, though perhaps Grace wished she were dead if she took such drastic
measures to hide herself from the world.
When his carriage had pulled to a stop and he had
disembarked, Sebastian felt the stirrings of sorrow. The estate was quiet—a
massive Palladian mansion nestled in a bank of oak trees. One would expect the
bustle and grandeur of such a place to overtake any sense of emotion except
awe, but it was there—solitude bordering on sadness. Only a stable hand had
hurried out to meet the carriage and four.
Had she gone mad out here in this godforsaken wilderness?
The portal opened a moment later just as he was ready to rap
the door a second time.
“My lord.” The majordomo bowed and swung the door wide.
“Might I be of assistance?”
“I’m here to see the Duchess of Hammond.” He withdrew his
card with the single word Ridgley emblazoned and centered in the middle,
dropping it to a salver.
The new duke, a military man with a decent head on his
shoulders, was still unmarried, though he had been inundated with potential
candidates during the Season. Sebastian had made it his business to converse
with the new duke but his taciturnity made rocks seem talkative. What he’d
garnered, to his relief, indicated Grace was not completely fragile.
“I regret Her Grace is indisposed.”
Of course, he had expected as much. It was part of the reason
he had arrived just as the sun was setting. “Would there be a time tomorrow
more convenient?”
“I am afraid not, Lord Ridgley.”
“Would you please let Her Grace know I am here? I daresay
the return trip to London is lengthy and I do not wish to leave without seeing
her.” Short of force, he would be required to defer to her wishes.
And her desire to be left alone had been very clear to all
of her friends who had trekked to Cornwall to visit, with the obvious exception
of her sisters. But none of the other visitors had the same determination or
motivation. They weren’t in
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