The HOUSE of KINGSTON

The Duke of Kingston

Wellington cleared his throat and the moment was passed. The Iron Duke was back in place. Colt saw when the persona clicked and wondered at it's sudden reappearance. He didn't have to wonder long.

"I've filled you in on all the news you've asked of me. But I also have news of a personal nature to give you."

Colt's eyes narrowed and snapped to attention on Wellington's face. "What is it? What is going on?"

"I have made a decision to medically discharge you from your duties. You're--".

"What?!" Colt's temper was quick to ignite and his voice took on an edge. "I'll heal soon enough, there is no reason for such measures!" Colt's angry voice rang out in the room. Wellington sighed.

"Listen to me, Colt, don't interrupt. I've received news of your family from a contact in London. You must retire. This decision really has nothing to do with your health. I know you will recover, but I feared you would refuse to sell out." Wellington's voice was clipped and clear.

Colt's eyes flashed, he was still in a temper, though he was listening now, "What of my family?"

"There is no easy way to tell you this, Colt. You are now the Duke of Kingston. You must quit the army, go home, and see to the Ducal Estate. Now that Napoleon is gone, England needs your hands on the reins there." This was uttered from the Duke of Wellington as an order.

"I'm the Duke--what? What about Jeffery?" Comprehension dawned and the blood drained from Colt's face as he realized his brother must be dead for the Dukedom to be passed down to him. His voice cracked, "What happened?"

Wellington didn't pretend to misunderstand. "He was drinking in the village at King's Inn. A heavy storm had blown in, but he was already drunk. He refused to stay and the people feared to restrain him for the punishment they would receive when he became sober. He tried to return home in his phaeton. When he didn't arrive, a search found him two miles from Kingston's gates. He was in the ditch with a broken neck, the phaeton smashed around him. The horses were nearby, one with sides gashed open from splinters, and the other with the forelegs broken. They were put down."

Colt understood. There was no stopping Jeffery when he was foxed. "I thank you for coming to me, Wellington. There is no need to discharge me, I will sell out." He sighed deeply, wincing when it pulled his wounds, "Twelve years is a long time, I'm tired, and I need to go home." He didn't question Wellington's information. He wouldn't have come to tell him, if it wasn't confirmed.

"I'm sorry it had to be this way, Colt." The Iron Duke hesitated and averted his gaze from Colt's before continuing, "No disrespect to your brother, but you should have been Kingston all along."

Colt inhaled a sharp breath and said, "Thanks to his foolishness...I am now." He cleared his throat, "Tell me...is my Valet, Peters, with me?"

Wellington's expression eased a bit. "He is. The poor fellow will collapse with relief once he sees you awake."

"If you don't mind, Sir, send him in. I'll have him find a carriage and book us passage. I'll leave on the first ship for England."

Wellington's expression remained unchanged because he was unsurprised. Whatever pain or strife he had to endure, the new Duke of Kingston was a man who knew his duties, and always did what had to be done. He didn't bother saying that Colt should give himself more time to heal because it wouldn't do any good. His single-minded backbone of steel would pull him through, just like it had at Waterloo, just like it had saved his life behind the farmhouse.

When the next morning's dawn broke through the night sky, Colt was already on his way to the docks. By noon, he was moving steadily away from Brussels toward England's shores.

He was going home...as the Duke of Kingston.