THE DUKE AND HIS RELUCTANT BRIDE

Chapter 4

James

The study was quiet. The curtain was drawn to block the room from sunlight. Men sat quietly in their chairs, each with uncertainty about their families' futures. I entered, and all eyes focused on me.

“Gentlemen,” I said, voice calm, carrying a high level of respect, “You wanted to have a word with me.”

One by one, they stepped forward. Isaac Carver, Helen’s father, was among them, face pale.

“Your Grace,” he began, his voice trembling, “We seek only your mercy. The crops have failed, business is unsettled, and.”

“Spare stories of misfortune,” I interrupted mildly. “I am aware of the circumstance. Go straight to the point.”

Elizabeth’s father took a deep breath. “We want to appeal to you to give us more time. We know our debts are quite high, but we need time, and without more time, we face ruin.”

My eyes ran through everyone in the room, calm yet unyielding. “The time has been extended for you once,” I said evenly. “Yet here you are again asking for another extension. Know that I do not act without consideration. But I cannot run this business with sentiments.”

Another man shifted nervously. “We understand, my lord, yet we hoped that you would give us a few weeks, considering the challenge we face.”

I nodded and listened in silence. My body language portrayed no agitation. "I'm afraid that won't be possible. It would be unfair to those who kept their end of the deal and paid on time." I stood up straight, which meant the meeting was over. "You can leave now."

Thomas Ashford, my younger brother, walks in as the men leave.

Oh! "Thomas," I said as I stood up from the chair. "Not the right time; I have something important to do, but please wait for me."

Thomas stood up straight without thinking. He asked, "Should I leave?" "I guess you want to lock the office."

I responded, "No". "Stay." You are my brother; there’s nothing to hide from you.

And I meant that in every way, though my staff had told me that Thomas looks at my office with greed, he looks at my chair like a throne he dreams of sitting on. Some well-wishers had said to me that they overheard him in the club when he was drunk, calling me a proud man who always acts like the world is right under his feet."

"He didn’t earn any of this. He was given."

"The dukedom, the money lending business, all inherited."

"You simply inherited it." "Now you walk these halls like you worked for all these."

"They bow down to you." They say nice things about you. The best families in London parade their daughters before you. "I can't wait for the day you fall." "When they stop calling you untouchable." He had said, but I can’t know for sure, it could be a rumor. Nevertheless, I'm bound to keep him close; I’m bound to look after him.

I left, the door closed behind me.

The office of Master Redding was bathed in the afternoon light. Books are arranged neatly on the shelves. I entered quietly, yet my presence made the place feel as if I owned it. I placed a leather pouch carefully on the merchant’s desk.

“Had to deliver this personally since you stated the urgency,” I said, my tone measured.

Master Redding rose abruptly, bowing deeply. The joy on his face could not be hidden. “Your Grace… to think you brought this yourself.”

I inclined my head slightly. “This is not mere kindness. Our families have conducted business smoothly over the years. You, Master Redding, have always honored your words. Your prompt repayment has strengthened trust and helped both our businesses prosper. Few men in London maintain such a level of integrity in matters of wealth.”

The merchant’s eyes beamed with admiration. “Your Grace, it is an honor to work with you.

As the loan was received and signatures affixed, the merchant relaxed, feeling immensely relieved. “A man such as yourself, Your Grace, wealth, influence, respect, surely you have considered heirs to carry all this forward?”

I stayed quiet, trying to pick my words carefully. I have heard the question many times, always posed with varying degrees of curiosity, concern, or calculation.

“Soon,” I said at last. “I do intend to marry. Only that I’m not in a rush.”

Mr. Redding smiled knowingly. “London is full of eager families. In fact, mine is not left out.”

“So I am told,” I said. “Yet too many women care only about jewelry and apparel. I require more than admiration.”

“Sense, then?” Mr Redding ventured.

“And steadiness,” I added quietly. “When I find a woman who possesses the qualities I desire, I shall not hesitate.”

As I took my leave, I felt the burden of a lineage, the silent pressure of legacy. I built my fortune through discipline, not indulgence. If I were to be married, it would not be for display or pressure.

It would be intentional.

***

Isaac Carver – Helen’s father

I sat alone in my study, the fire before me long forgotten as my gaze rested on the neat stacks of papers spread across my desk.

A soft knock sounded before the door opened.

Frederick stepped inside. He did not speak at once; he scarcely needed to.

“Well?” he asked at last.

I exhaled, slow and measured. “The Duke of Greystone will not yield.”

Frederick’s jaw tightened. “Not even a few weeks?”

“Not even a day,” I replied. “He listened. He always does. But listening is not the same as yielding.”

Silence covered the room. Frederick paced back and forth in the room, then stopped. “Then we must raise what we can. Quickly.”

I nodded. “Have you secured a buyer for the sawmill?”

“Not yet,” Frederick said. “But two men from Brent are expected to inspect it within the week. They look serious about it.”

“We have little time for curiosity.”

Frederick glanced toward the door, lowering his voice. “Helen suspects nothing?”

My expression softened. “And God willing, she shall not. We have to be at dinner tonight, so she doesn’t, considering we’ve missed dinner for two days now.”

“We will scale through,” I said, more prayer than certainty.

Dinner passed more quietly than usual, the candles giving the dining room a gentle glow. Helen spoke at last, her voice softer than before.

“I visited Elizabeth today,” she said. “She seems composed, but it is obvious she is scared.”

My hand paused briefly above my plate. “The city can be cruel to falling families.”

Helen looked between us. “I cannot help but feel her troubles. To see one’s life ruined by matters beyond one’s control, debts inherited, choices made by others.”

My expression tightened, though my voice remained calm. “Her family will manage.”

“I hope so,” Helen said quietly. “Elizabeth fears they may be forced to leave London. She spoke of returning to their country home.”

“I feel for her too,” Frederick said

She studied us now, sensing some unease. “You both seem quiet this evening.”

I reached for my wine. “The day was hectic.”

“Your mind seems to be elsewhere,” Helen observed.

Frederick nodded too quickly. “Only business.”

Helen accepted the answer, though she looked unconvinced.

Across the table, I folded my hands together, my jaw set like a man carrying a burden of war.