A Spinster to Heal the Duke

Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

S o, you see, the task is too much for your cousin and me. I ask that my father spare at least one of you from his care to assist us. Then, you may return to Reedley Manor.

Warm regards, Sarah Turner, Viscountess of Weston

"How genial. Would she like us to sleep in the servant's quarters, too," Anne Drowton muttered just low enough that her grandfather wouldn't hear.

Her younger brother, Charles, heard and stifled a laugh.

"Well, hello to you, too, Sarah Turner, Viscountess of Weston," Jeremy Drowton huffed.

He set his daughter's letter down. "She always writes so formally now. I understand our station and the rise she made in her match, but this is personal correspondence between family. It is permissible to be a little less formal. You would think we were mere acquaintances."

He was quiet a moment, and Anne and Charles could both see the letter had affected him to a great degree. It was clear he wanted more closeness between himself and his only child that remained. Then, as he looked at his grandchildren in the room with him, he brightened.

"She may have been pressed for time when she wrote it," he decided, offering his daughter the benefit of the doubt. "We will make a special trip to town before we go to London. I should buy a few presents for the Viscountess and Phoebe."

"That is very thoughtful of you, Grandfather," Anne said.

Though she smiled, inside she felt a warm rage simmering. If her father were alive, and she married, high or low, she would write him with love. She would visit him often if she didn't live close enough to see him and her mother each day or week.

"Phoebe used to like sneaking into her mother's perfume. A bottle of her own might be appropriate now that we're older. I wouldn't know what to bring to Aunt Sarah," Charles suggested, rubbing the back of his neck.

"That's very thoughtful, my boy. You'll do well keeping a young lady happy when the time is right," the Baron praised, patting Charles on the back. "We all have time to think about something we can do for Sarah. For now, I am going to rest with a book in my room. I'll see you both in the morning."

He patted Charles on the shoulder once more then decided to hug his grandson. As he passed, Anne rose to hug him, and Jeremy kissed her cheek.

"Goodnight," he said, leaving the room.

"Goodnight, Grandfather," Anne and Charles echoed.

To their grandfather, they sounded like children for a moment.

They waited until their grandfather was out of earshot.

"There was nothing warm about that letter," Anne said. "Warm regards. She didn't even sign as Aunt Sarah."

"Proper titles are important," Charles argued, taking their aunt's letter and looking it over himself. "Well, you should send correspondence informing her when to expect you."

"Me, no, dear brother. You will be the one making this trip. I have far too much to tend to here to leave for weeks," Anne countered. "If I'm gone, who will cook, clean, and see to Grandfather?"

"If I'm gone, who will oversee the land, speak with the farmers and the merchant, and manage the expenses?" Charles retorted.

"You aren't doing such a remarkable job of that now," Anne said, teasing her brother.

Charles laughed a little then replied, "All the more reason that I should stay and improve myself."

They each sat down in the parlor to consider the letter.

"Would it be better if we both go?" Charles asked. "We're a pretty good team and can knock out anything she wants quickly if we do it together."

"You don't want to go alone," Anne observed.

"Neither do you. We could make the most of it together," Charles replied.

"Even so, we can't both leave Grandfather. He's seventy-five, too old to be left to look after himself," Anne said thoughtfully.

"Peggy can look after him. You do most things around here anyway. If she only has to care for Grandfather, they can manage," Charles suggested. "Peggy is more than capable and knows how Grandfather can be."

"We both know Grandfather wouldn't agree to it. I can hear him now, ‘I'll not stay here with only a maid and have whispers about the goings on in my home. You should have hired additional staff when I told you to,'" she imitated, making a stern face as her grandfather did.

"And I can't even balance the books if I offer a modicum of the staff he believes we should have — that the manor used to require," Charles said, disappointed in himself.

"You will get there, Charles. You will," Anne encouraged. "We will make this place all that it was and more. Then, you will attend a dance or a dinner, and you will meet a young lady. You will invite everyone from barons to viscounts to the Earl himself to see how well the fields are doing. You will show them how much trade has improved, and they will hunt from the flourishing property you oversee."

Charles smiled but shook his head.

"I am going to work as hard as I can. I will tell everyone that whatever they see in me or this place is possible because of having you. You took care of me after our parents died," Charles said then he added, "Except for when you upheld your duties to other family members. Like our cousin, Phoebe Turner, and our aunt, Sarah Turner, Viscountess of Weston. She sends her warmest regards."

He laughed heartily, and Anne's loving smile changed to a laugh of frustration.

"What better education in managing the finances than helping Aunt Sarah and Cousin Phoebe?" Anne asked.

"There's no comparison," Charles argued, becoming serious again. "That's a much larger estate to manage."

"And a meal for twelve is more than a meal for three. Neither of those problems is what we face, but I know I could manage mine," Anne replied before standing.

Charles stood as well. At eighteen, he finally stood taller than his sister. Now, he straightened himself and tried to speak with authority.

"Anne, I would be of no benefit to Sarah and Phoebe. In this instance, you should make the trip to London," he declared, adding a firm nod for effect.

"Well, I went to London a few times as a child. You have only been twice and could use the exposure," Anne argued. "And don't think because you've grown a few inches or will hold a title that I will not always be your older sister. I will not be bossed around by you."

"Or anyone," Charles said, sitting down again. "I don't mean to boss you. It seemed like the only hand I could play in the matter."

Anne sighed.

"I will think about it. For now, I will send a letter. I will let her know we must consider what is best for our grandfather — her father. I will reason with her about the care he requires if one or both of us are absent. She's not been here to visit in some time, so she may not realize how little staff there is," Anne decided.

"No staff. One maid," Charles clarified.

"One maid is still staff. The plural and singular are the same," Anne stated. "This is fortunate so individuals of our status with limited staff can save face. We owe gratitude to the ambiguity of the word I suppose."

"Do you think she would be pleased if we all made the trip? Then, we could help her, and Grandfather could see his daughter and third grandchild. Everything works out," Charles suggested.

"We both know Sarah, Viscountess of Weston. If she wanted us all, her letter would have requested it. Besides, Grandfather doesn't do as well in London. For his health, it is better for him here in the fresh air," Anne replied.

Charles nodded. He understood. Aunt Sarah rarely invited her family to her home in London. She also didn't visit Reedley often. It's not that she was ashamed or didn't care. She had grown more preoccupied as Phoebe was older and became marriageable. Furthermore, she had her own life, friends, and station to tend to in London, and she didn't seem to have room for more.

"But she needs assistance. We will sort out what we need to do and reach an agreement later about whether you or I will go to her. Yes?" Anne asked.

"Yes," Charles agreed.

"Good. Then, let's put the matter to bed for tonight. It's late, and we will both view the matter clearly when we have had some rest," she said.

"Tomorrow, then," Charles agreed. "Not first thing. I'm no good until I have had a breakfast cake and hot chocolate."

"One of these days, you would do well to put down the hot chocolate and pick up the tea — or milk or coffee but something more mature than hot chocolate," Anne suggested.

"Maturity is knowing what I like and not caring that others find it childish," Charles argued.

"At this point, I think you continue to drink it to spite me," Anne replied with a small smile.

In some ways, she liked the parts of her brother that were still young and carefree. She felt she had grown up a lot in a brief time when their parents passed and they moved in with their grandfather. She liked that though he was a man now, he still maintained a certain youthfulness. Still, she knew that would be something to temper to be taken seriously. As the future Baron of Reedley, to at least some degree, Charles needed to be taken seriously. It was a fine line her grandfather had managed well as did their late father.

He'll get there, Anne told herself. He requires a little patience, but he has the Drowton men in him. He will do well when the time is right and he is ready.

"If I were going to do anything to spite you, it would be not finish a meal," Charles said. "I think that would gut you more than anything."

"It would," Anne agreed without hesitation.

As they began to make their way toward the stairs for bed, a knock at the door interrupted their back and forth.

"Who would be at the door this late?" Charles asked.

"It's Aunt Sarah. She couldn't wait and decided she needed both of us to come now," she said, giving Charles a small pinch before laughing.

Charles looked unamused.

Anne rolled her eyes and said, "I'm teasing. It's probably Esther or Judith. It's a little late for them, but I can't think who else it would be at this hour. See me to the door."

Charles went with his sister down the stairs and to the front door. He stiffened his shoulders and did his best to sound older and braver than his years.

"Who's there? It is very late, and we are not expecting company," he declared.

Anne sighed and whispered, "Who is it was probably enough."

As she chided him, a voice that was every bit as mature and brave as Charles tried to sound responded. The voice was deep but clear.

"My name is Noah Campbell. I am the Duke of Grandon. I've been injured and need assistance," the man said.

Anne and Charles exchanged a look then she opened the door. A man in the dress of high station stood before them, albeit tilted to one side.

"Your leg," Anne observed with concern.

"Goodness, man, how are you still standing?" Charles asked as well.

Though badly injured on his left calf, the gentleman seemed to be investing every effort into remaining a gentleman. He stood tall despite leaning, and his face and tone of speaking were composed.

His green eyes were striking and gave the only sign of his excruciating pain beyond appearance of the limb itself.

"Your Grace, what happened to you?" Anne asked, lowering herself to inspect his leg more closely. "Also, why are you alone and out at all at such a late hour?"

"I will answer your questions, but first, the respectable thing would be to invite me in. By now, you should already be seeing to my wound and sending a driver with a message to my manor in London," the Duke ordered, stepping forward into the home.