Deceived. Bertrice SmallЧитать онлайн книгу.
almost forgotten but that Grandfather remembered it before he died.”
“That is true,” his grandmother agreed. “The unimportant, albeit wealthy, daughter of a colonial planter might be forgotten by a duke, but that same girl’s family would hardly forget that their child was promised to that same duke, and one day to be a duchess. No, Valerian, you cannot escape your fate. You will sail on the Royal George from Plymouth in three weeks’ time for St. Timothy. You are expected.”
“How did my father meet Robert Kimberly?” the duke wondered. “Certainly the families did not keep up their contact over the years.”
“To a certain degree they did,” the dowager said, surprising him.
“But Robert Kimberly came to Oxford, which is where he met your father first. They shared quarters for two years before Kimberly returned to his island home to marry his first wife, Caroline Meredith. There were no offspring from that marriage, and after her death, Robert wed the younger Meredith daughter, Emily, who bore him his daughter, and died with their son. The third wife I know nothing about.” The dowager patted her grandson’s arm comfortingly.
“Now, cease your fretting, dear boy. You do not have to remain on St. Timothy any longer than it takes to marry the girl, assure her family she will have a wonderful life as your duchess, and return to England to settle down. You have run rampant long enough, Valerian. It is time for you to do your duty.”
“She will not hold a candle to you,” he told his grandmother, a twinkle in his eye, as he smiled down upon her.
“Flatterer!” the dowager responded, but she smiled back at him. Mary Rose Hawkesworth had been considered a great beauty in her youth, and she still was with eyes the same dark blue as her grandson’s, a rose and cream complexion, her fair hair now silvery white. “I shall expect my first great-grandson within the year,” she told him, and the duke laughed aloud.
“I shall do my best, Grandmama,” he promised her, “but she had best be a pretty chit.”
“All little pussies are alike in the dark when you stroke them nicely, Valerian,” the dowager said wickedly. Then she laughed at the surprised look upon her grandson’s face.
Part I
ST. TIMOTHY PLANTATION, 1760
Chapter 1
“I have only just heard of your husband’s death, Mistress Kimberly. May I tender my condolences to you and your family?”
“You may, Captain Young,” Oralia Kimberly said quietly. “Tell me, what brings you to St. Timothy? I have not seen you since Robert and I took our last voyage to Jamaica, two, three years ago.”
“Three years,” he reminded her, and then remembering why he was there, he handed her the letter. “I was entrusted with this letter in Plymouth, Mistress Kimberly. It is for your late husband. It has a mighty fancy crest on it, if I might be so bold to say.”
“Why, so it does, Captain Young,” Oralia Kimberly replied, a small smile touching her lips. Barnabas Young was a notorious gossip, but then how else could one learn what was going on in the outside world if it were not for people like him? “I do not recognize the hand,” she said. “I believe I shall save it for Aurora to open, as she is her father’s heiress.”
“I hope he left Missy Calandra and Master George a bit too,” the captain said, fishing none too delicately.
“Oh, indeed he did,” the widow assured him. “Robert was most generous to my children even if they weren’t his own. Why, Calandra is to have five thousand a year, not to mention an outright bequest of a thousand pounds, Captain Young. And, of course, George has done even better, being the young man in the family.” There! Now the old seafaring Yankee gossip would have something to talk about as his ship made its way among the islands. And her children would be known as good marriage prospects. She and Robert had been so content with their family that they hadn’t considered the future. Now, of course, widowed, the children without a fatherly protector, Oralia Kimberly had to think of her two daughters and her son. Of course Aurora wasn’t really her child, but she had raised the little girl since she was barely three and thought of her as her own. She was certainly the only mother Aurora could remember. “Will you stay for dinner, and for the night?” she politely asked the captain.
“Thank ye kindly, Mistress Kimberly,” he replied, “but ’tis not even noon yet. I have several other stops to make before I take on my cargo in Jamaica and head for England. I hope to get several voyages in before your stormy season hits. I’ve delivered your letter, and now I’ll be heading off again.” He tipped his hat to her and made a small bow. “Good day to ye, then, Mistress Kimberly.”
“Good day, Captain Young, and thank you,” she replied. Oralia Kimberly watched as the seaman made his way down the hill road back to the harbor of St. Timothy. She could see his great-masted ship riding at anchor in the bay. She looked again at the letter he had delivered. It was an extremely fancy crest that decorated the missive. Turning the letter over, she inspected the same crest in the sealing wax, and then, breaking the seal, she unfolded the paper. Waiting for Aurora had merely been an excuse to avoid opening the note in Captain Young’s presence. She would have been hard pressed to keep the contents a secret with the nosy sailor standing before her. Her brown eyes scanned the page, and then she gasped. “Gracious! Oh, my!” she exclaimed. Then she sat down and fanned herself with the parchment. “Oh, Robert, why did you not tell me of this?” she said aloud to her dearly departed spouse.
“What, Mama? Are you still scolding Papa? I do not believe he can hear you now.” Her son George gently teased his parent as he entered the airy morning room, removing his broad-brimmed hat, for he had been out in the fields, and the day was already hot.
Oralia Kimberly handed her son the letter.
“Damnation!” George swore softly when he had read it. “Does Aurora know of this, Mama?”
His mother shook her head in the negative. “I remember Robert mentioning to me some years back that he had arranged a marriage for Aurora one day, but he never brought it up again. Quite frankly, it slipped my mind. Ohhh, George! Just think! Aurora is to be a duchess!”
Her son burst out laughing.
“George!” Oralia Kimberly glared at her son.
Stifling his chortles, he replied, “Well, Mama, you must admit it is an interesting concept. You must let me be here when you tell her the news that even as we speak her betrothed husband is on the high seas, prepared to sail into the welcoming anchorage of her innocent, girlish heart.” Then he burst out laughing again, quite unable to restrain himself.
“George,” his mother said, “you are quite impossible! Do you not understand the importance of this? Aurora is to be the Duchess of Farminster. This island is her dowry. What will become of the rest of us, especially of you.”
George Spencer-Kimberly shrugged. “I doubt the duke will dispossess us simply because he gains possession of the island, Mama. I am certain that I will remain on as the plantation’s overseer, and I have the generous bequest that Papa left me, not to mention a yearly income as well. And you will certainly remain. Our about-to-be relation would hardly send his pretty mother-in-law packing.”
“Of course you are correct,” Oralia responded. Then she brightened even more. “And Calandra can go to England with Aurora, be presented to society, and find a titled husband! Of course she cannot seek as high as Aurora’s husband, but a not too wealthy earl would be delighted to have a girl with five thousand a year. I am, of course, furious with Robert, God rest him, for not telling me of this match, but all in all, it is very fortuitous for the entire family, isn’t it, George?”
“Only if Aurora cooperates,” her son replied.
“Why would she not cooperate?” his mother asked. “What girl in her right mind would turn down a duke?”
“Aurora would,” the young man replied,