A Duke's Dilemma by Snodgrass G. L

Author:Snodgrass, G. L. [Snodgrass, G. L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B0884R8MQ8
Goodreads: 53851809
Published: 2020-06-06T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

His Grace, the fourth Duke of Suffolk sighed heavily as he stepped past his butler, Jefferson. and into his London residence. That familiar smell of beeswax, brass polish, and old money greeted him.

It was as if he were admitting to the world and himself that it was over. He was no longer Ian Temple, painter, a free man in Worcester. No, he was once again a Duke of the realm. A man of London. At the center of the growing empire. Rich, powerful, and all alone.

“Welcome home, Your Grace,” Jefferson, said with a welcoming smile. “Here, let me take those,” he added as he reached for the package under the Duke’s arm.

“No,” the Duke snapped as he pulled away. He had carefully wrapped both paintings in cheesecloth and carried them next to him in the carriage all the way from Worcester. Nothing must be allowed to harm them. And most important. No one must see his work. He’d promised Meg.

The butler frowned then stepped back. “Of course, Your Grace.”

Ian sighed internally. If he wasn’t careful, people would think he was mad, not merely eccentric.

“I will take them to my room,” Ian said softly as he started for the stairs. He had only gotten a few steps when a cold voice called from the parlor door.

“Suffolk, is that you?”

A cold shiver ran down his spine as he forced himself to stop and turn. “Yes, Mother, I have returned.” He shot Jefferson a quick frown, a proficient butler would have warned his employer.

His mother scowled as she examined him closely, her eyes traveling over his workman’s jacket and thick woolen pants finally coming to rest on his paint-splattered shoes.

“Really, Suffolk,” she said with a slow shake of her head. “This is London after all. People might comment.”

“Nice to see you also, Mother,” Ian said before returning to go up the stairs.

“We need to talk,” she called out after him. “Soon,” she added, perfectly aware that if he had his way there would be no such conversation. There were only two things his mother ever wished to discuss with him. Her allowance, or his lack of a wife.

As for his art. Never. If the subject was not addressed then she could pretend it did not exist.

His mind shot back to the studio above the grocer’s in Worcester and the beautiful woman who had graced it only two weeks prior. No, that was behind him he reminded himself. Time to return to real life.

“Jefferson,” he yelled down to his butler. “A bath, and tell Stephan to meet me in the study in one hour.”

“At once, Your Grace,” the butler called up before scurrying off to see to his employer’s demands.

Ian took a deep breath, it was time he returned to his duties. And if he was lucky. They would take his mind away from the pain eating at his insides.

Once he was bathed and his valet, Prescott, had him dressed appropriately in a frock coat too tight across the shoulders and a cravat starched to within an inch of its life, he started to leave his room before pausing.

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