Page 5 of Raising the Duke’s Unexpected Twins

Being on her own had always suited her very well, and she had pushed aside thoughts of a domestic sort of future. Now, it was rushing towards her at full speed. And her indebted mother and two younger sisters would likely not take the news very well. A knock at the sitting room door jolted her out of her nervous reverie, and she dropped the pillow as she turned to see a footman enter.

“You have a guest, Miss. Might I show him in?” The footman looked ill at ease.

“Has he not given his name?”

“I do not need to give my name!” a familiar voice shouted, and then the Duke of Wexford suddenly appeared in the room, dressed in black, his silver-tipped cane in his one hand, and hat in his other, which he dropped into the fearful footman’s hands.

“Your Grace,” Cordelia said, her stomach tightening. “Do come in.” She motioned to the chair, but instead, he paced furiously in front of the fireplace, waving his cane in the air as he spoke.

Nervously, the footman slowly shut the door, and Cordelia was left alone with a man she loathed, whom Helen had also loathed and had confided in her that he made her life and David’s life a misery at any opportunity.

“How could a spinster inherit my own son’s wealth! It is madness!” the duke continued to pace. “Insanity! I shall not have it.” He turned to her and pointed at her with his cane. “I know you have somehow contrived to force Helen to do this, whom you adored and followed around like a puppy.”

“I beg your pardon!” she began, but he continued, yelling and pacing, until her voice rose over his own.

“Your Grace, I do not know at all what you mean!” she cried. “I have inherited no money.”

It was only then that he stopped pacing, and slowly, he turned to look at her, his eyes narrowing.

“You lie,” he said. “The solicitor told me the wealth was inherited elsewhere, but he did not explain where. He was not permitted. Then who inherited it if not you?!” his voice rose again along with his cane.

Cordelia glared at him. “I could not tell you. I too am confused, for I was certain that you would have inherited your son’s wealth, Your Grace. But it is not I. There was no need for you to come here to…wave your stick about and shout in my own drawing room.”

Cordelia regretted the words, at least in part as soon as she’d uttered them, after she saw the thunderous look on the duke’s face. He took a step towards her, but she crossed her arms, desperate to show no fear.

“I will find out then. The children and the money belong with me. Their grandfather. It is only I who should be entrusted to take on my son’s legacy.”

He spoke the words without emotion, and Cordelia knew he cared not a whit for his twin grandchildren.

“I’m afraid to inform you that while I did not inherit the money, I did inherit the children. They are to live with me. It was your son’s and my dear friend’s wish.”

His eyes widened in shock, and then he let out a sickening laugh. “You?! Ha! How are you to raise two children with no money of your own?” She tried her best to stand taller. “Or perhaps you will use them as extra pairs of hands around the house, no matter their rank. Just like a pair of servants.”

He stormed to the door before she could reply in fury, and before he left, he turned back to her and said, “I will dispute this will. It is nonsense and no doubt that whore-wife of my son’s was the cause of all of it!”

He slammed the door, and Cordelia sat down, spent, stung by the duke’s cruel words. Helen was the kindest, most beautiful, most compassionate woman that Cordelia had ever known. They had met at eighteen, in their first season, and had been inseparable since. She pressed a hand to her heart, where it seemed to hurt the most.

Helen, how did you bear that man?

As the weight of loss and her new future with no funds to support it weighed upon her, Cordelia breathed out a long sigh, wishing the tension in her shoulders would loosen. But she jolted upward when she heard the creak of the door and hurriedly wiped her face, afraid the duke had returned to continue his cruel torture.

“My dear,” her mother Fiona said softly, shutting the door after her and walking slowly towards the sofa, her day dress making soft sounds as she glided across the floor. Her blue eyes were kind as she looked at her daughter. “I’m afraid I have not seen you cry for such a long time, that you frighten me so. While I know you are always thinking of Helen, this seems different. Are you all right?”

Cordelia tensed. Her mother, who had borne so much already, could not see her in such a state. Over the past month, all her crying had been done in her room, afraid that she should show her family the true depth of her grief.

“Yes, Mama, I will be all right. Please sit. There is much to discuss.”

They sat, and Cordelia took a breath, attempting to gain control of her whirring thoughts and the continued ache in her heart.

“I am sorry for the scene caused by the Duke of Wexford.”

“Well, he was always one for scenes,” her mother said with a smirk, bringing a little lightness to Cordelia’s heart. “I wonder why he should be visiting you?”

“Yes, well, he is angry for a good reason, I suppose, although I think the children would not be happy with him.”

“Cordelia, my dear, I’m afraid you must start from the beginning. I am quite confused.” Her mother’s light brows furrowed. Cordelia was about to begin again when there was a knock at the door, and her two sisters, Emma and Danae, burst in, with Emma blushing slightly at Danae’s usual brashness.

“Forgive us, but we heard the commotion and wished to see if all was well—,” Emma began. “Dear Cord! What has happened?”