chapter 4

BALDWIN STOOD IN shock for a moment as did the other

man with the shabby clothing. Then, the solicitor snapped

into motion.

"Your Grace, if you would follow me into my office, it

might be a more suitable location for our discussion?"

James scowled at him but walked through the hallways

into an office that thankfully looked much nicer than the

rest of the building. He took a seat in the chair and

slammed the papers on the plain desk. Baldwin closed

the door behind him.

"You best begin speaking," James threatened.

Baldwin sighed heavily before occupying the other chair.

"It began when I was cleaning my father's office. He

passed away two years ago but it was only recently that I

was able to bring myself to search through his

possessions."

James felt a slight slimmer of empathy for the man. He

had lost his own father years ago when he was a child,

and he still missed the former Duke of Lennox.

"In his files, I came across the papers I sent to you. I had

no prior knowledge about those papers and my father had

not mentioned them in his lifetime."

Neither had James' father. Although he didn't believe his

seven-year-old self would have understood the true

nature of the betrothal. His father probably meant to

address the matter with him at a later date but never got

the chance to do so. "What was your father's name?"

Baldwin cleared his throat, "Jacob. He was a kind man

and a good solicitor."

James vaguely remembered reading the name in some of

his father's documents. He must have been the previous

duke's solicitor. James had been extremely young when

his father passed. He had been shipped off to Eton while

his great-aunt controlled most of his assets and the

estates after his mother felt ill. She must have been the

one to switch solicitors to the man James now employed.

"Do you know anything about the Lady whom I'm

supposedly betrothed to?"

Baldwin nodded before standing up and retrieving a stack

of papers from the corner of the room. "I did try to do

some research but without hiring a Bow Street Runner it

wasn't quite easy or throughout. As you can imagine, my

funds were limited." He gestured to his office in

embarrassment.

James ignored the statement and held out his palm

impatiently as he read the name. "Lady Selina, she is the

daughter of the Earl of Westmorland, correct?"

James had vague memories of the Earl, he had been

close to the previous duke, often visiting Chalcott manor

with his daughter. While his memory was a bit hazy

around the Earl, he could not remember the daughter, she

had been very young at that time, and thus something

avoided.

"Yes, the previous Earl of Westmorland was her father."

James' eyes snapped up, "Who hold's the title now?"

"Her uncle, the earl's brother was the heir to the

earldom."

"And the lady?"

A bead of sweat gathered in Baldwin's forehead. "Well..."

James cocked an eyebrow, "Spit it out."

"She has been missing for nearly fifteen years and is

presumed to be dead."

James was gobsmacked. He had not anticipated

Baldwin's answer, but things might work in his favour

now. "If she is dead, then the betrothal contract is null."

Baldwin coughed into his handkerchief. "Well, not quite."

James waited for the man to continue.

"There is another stipulation. I did not send it to you,

fearing that it might fall in the wrong hands."

James sighed; this whole business was bothersome. He

wore his looking glasses to take a look at the next

document Baldwin produced.

This document hereby serves as the official betrothal

contract between Lady Selina, daughter of The Earl of

Westmoreland and Marquess Harrington, James Fulton,

son of The Duke of Lennox. The dowry provided to the

Marquess Harrington upon marriage is Denbury Manor and

a sum of 50,000 pounds. The manor will remain in Lady

Selina's control but bear the Marquess Harrington's name.

If the betrothal contract is broken by Marquess Harrington,

Lady Selina will receive Chalcott Manor as a payment—with

the stipulation that she may not sell it. If Lady Selina

request the betrothal contract be terminated, she will be

required to give up Denbury Manor. The terms of the

betrothal contract may not be altered at any point. Should

both Lady Selina and Lord Harrington consent to not marry,

each group shall retain their respective assets.

At the bottom were signatures by both the Duke of

Lennox and Earl of Westmoreland stating they had signed

the papers at Chalcott Manor, on the eve of Thursday May

14, 1802.

James glanced up at Baldwin in disbelief. "This must be

fabricated, correct?"

That was the only explanation besides the Earl and Duke

being deep into their cups and writing a betrothal contract

for the sake of laughter.

Baldwin shook his head, "No, it is legally binding. You

might have it abolished by the House of the Lords if

provided sufficient enough evidence of Lady Selina's

death."

James' eyebrows rose, "There isn't enough evidence in

regard to Lady Selina's death?"

"No, Your Grace. After the death of the Earl, my father

went to Denbury Manor, but Lady Selina had vanished. A

couple of her trunks had been ransacked but there was no

evidence of force entry. It is believed that she ran away."

James frowned, how was it possible for a child to run

away herself. Someone must have assisted her. "Did an

investigation not take place?"

"It did, but after a few years there was nothing that

changed so the new Earl withdrew his funding."

That was an interesting tidbit. It appeared as though he

had some questions to ask the new Earl.

"I must speak with Lord Westmorland."

Baldwin winced, "I believed you might say that. He is

currently in the country with his family."

James understood the meaning clearly. He couldn't arrive

at the Earl's manor uninvited. Duke or not, it was possible

that he would be turned away at the gates. His mind

began turning the cogs in his brain. Firstly, he needed to

hire a Bow Street Runner. He wasn't sure that the previous

man hired were competent enough. As soon as he

received proof that Lady Selina was dead—he would be

free to do as he pleased. Bloody hell, he still didn't know

what his father had been thinking, signing off on an

agreement like this. It wasn't as though he could ask him

anyways.

Shaking from his thoughts, James stood up and extended

his hand. "I would say it has been a pleasure but that

would be false, so I'll thank you for the information you

have provided."

Baldwin grasped his hand, "I do apologize for delivering

such dire news, but it was best to speak with you, lest the

information got released to the papers somehow."

James winced; he could imagine the gossip columns

eagerness to publish a story like his. It was best to keep

this a secret as he investigated the matter further.

Retrieving a pouch filled with coins, he placed it on

Baldwin's desk. "Use it to purchase a better office, no

aristocrat in their right minds will hire you in this upheaval

place."

Baldwin's eyes shone with gratitude, causing an

uncomfortable feeling to envelope James. Before the

solicitor could say anything else, James briskly left the

room. He had many tasks to accomplish before he could

return to the country.

***

James' walked through the door Martin was holding

before passing his hats and gloves to a footman.

"Welcome home Your Grace, I trust that your time in

London was pleasant?"

James looked at his butler for a second, "It was in fact, a

miserable time."

Martin, used to James' honesty, didn't react as one might.

Instead he bowed, "Would you like me to inform the cook

to have marzipan for dessert tonight?"

James nodded, it had been quite a while since he'd ate

marzipan, maybe it would lighten his terrible mood.

Walking to his study, James was aware that his servants

seemed to be glancing at him more than usual.

"Is something the matter?" he snapped at one of the

maids who stopped dusting the frame of his ancestor's

paintings so she could peer at him.

She blushed, dropping the cloth she'd been using. "No,

Your Grace," she finally uttered softly.

James entered his study and poured himself a glass of

brandy. He deserved it after all the headache he'd been

through. James took a sip of the drink before settling into

his chair. At least he'd been able to secure a Bow Street

Runner. Though the man looked scraggy, when he'd told

James that he served at Waterloo, James knew he

wouldn't find a better man for the job.

Opening his ledgers, James' frowned when he saw that

last week's figures were more than doubled of any other

weeks.

"Martin!"

His butler rushed through the door.

"Get me Mrs. Shrine, something about the ledgers isn't

adding up."

James watched closely as Martin's face paled, but the

butler didn't say anything. It seemed that he knew

something but wasn't sharing. Nonetheless, he would get

the information he needed from Mrs. Shrine. She came in

a few minutes later.

"You called, Your Grace?"

James pointed behind her, "Shut the door, and have a

seat."

Mrs. Shrine did as she was told but he could see her

hands shaking as she came closer to his desk. James

didn't say anything for a moment and continued to

observe her. His housekeeper had been in charge for the

last seven years and yet everything had run smoothly—

until now.

"Why have the household expenses increased since I left

for London?"

Mrs. Shrine winced, "There were a few accidents, Your

Grace."

James merely raised an eyebrow, signaling for her to

continue.

"A vase was broken—"

"Which one?"

"The blue one in the drawing room Your Grace."

James let out a breath. It was not one of his mothers. He

didn't remember what the vase particularly looked like,

but it must have been a gift from his great-aunt. She had

a particular affinity for vases and had gifted him many

over the years. He usually handed them over to a servant

and ordered that they be placed in a location that suited

them.

"So, the increase in expenditure is due to the purchase of

a new vase?"

"Not quite, Your Grace. There was also the incident with a

few ingredients such as potatoes, sugar, chocolate that

were needed to be purchased once again."

James looked at books at then at Mrs. Shrine, "I can see

why the expenses would be greater, but this does not

explain the increase in twelve pounds over a week."

Mrs. Shrine produced a paper before carefully handing it

over to James. "This might explain it more."

James read the list and his eyes nearly bulged out. Not

only was a vase broken, the drapes had mysteriously been

torn, the cook had nearly quit until his salary was

increased, linens were dyed an unpleasant purple, various

kitchen ingredients had gone bad, and his gardens were

missing a few hedges.

"What in the bloody hell happened when I was in

London?" His manor had always been efficient, with the

servants being noticeable when he needed them, and

ghosts when he didn't. He never had such issues before.

There was hesitation before Mrs. Shrine spoke, "Many of

the incidents occurred because of the new maid we hired,

Vivienne."

James placed a hand on his temple. He had nearly

forgotten that he instructed his housekeeper to employ

the chit—however, to blame her for everything was simply

prosperous. He wouldn't have his staff lying to him.

"Do you mean to tell me, one maid was the cause of all

this destruction?"

Mrs. Shrine's eyes widened. "If you would allow me to

explain the timeline of the events?"

James nodded once.

"Vivienne was first given the position of a maid. She was

cleaning the drawing room when the vase fell. We

cleaned it up but then I decided it might be better for her

to help in the kitchen."

"I assume she didn't fair better in the kitchen?"

"No, Your Grace. She dropped a few ingredients on the

floor prompting the anger of the cook and he stated that

he would leave. We could only convince him to stay if we

increase his pay."

"And so you increased his salary without my permission?"

Mrs. Shrine gulped audibly. "We didn't know what else to

do. Nobody could take over his job and to replace him

would take too long."

James sighed. His cook was dramatic—as most French

people were. The only reason as to why James still kept

him was because the man made the best meals in all of

England. "Go on then."

"Vivienne then went to help the gardener and accidently

cut up the wrong plants. It only got worse, the next day

she was in charge of washing the linens but somehow,

the colour of the sheets changed. I've been doing my best

to look out for her, but it seems hopeless. She tries her

best but can't succeed at anything."

James felt a pang of sympathy for what Vivienne might be

going through before he brushed it away immediately. He

did not employ people who were not capable of

completing their tasks. It seemed like the chit was more

trouble than what she was worth.

A headache a forming, "Mrs. Shrine, inform Vivienne of

her dismissal effective immediately."

Mrs. Shrine's eyes widened in surprise. Did she really

expect James to keep a chit merely because she had

been out on the streets? He didn't run a successful

dukedom by taking pity on everyone he met. Besides, he'd

given her the chance to succeed, but she'd fail—that

wasn't on James' conscious.

"Write her a recommendation letter so it might be easier

for her to seek employment elsewhere."

He saw his housekeeper struggled to form the next few

words. "Your Grace, if you would allow me to finish my

observations before making a final decision?"

James almost said no but he saw the tears forming in

Mrs. Shrine's eyes. Good Lord, she'd become attached to

the chit in the last week—but that wasn't James' problem.

He could however listen to her, without any intention of

changing his actions.

"Very well, what else did you want to say?"

Mrs. Shrine took a deep breath, "I think Vivienne might be

a Lady, Your Grace."

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