ChapterOne
George Hansen’s arrival on English soil was remarkably anticlimactic. When he had left, three years prior, he had sworn nothing but the direst of emergencies would bring him back, but it appeared foreign living had softened him.
Or perhaps he had just missed England.
As he accustomed himself to the shouting that accompanied his landing, and the coarse tongues of the sailors, he reflected that perhaps Italy had not been so bad, after all. The heat was stifling, but unlike in Italy, where the heat’s power had been drawn from the sun, here the air was thick with moisture and smoke.
“Move it!”
George started, but he merely picked up his bag and headed up the cobbles that backed the dock. Houses leaned together, snug and picturesque, and further into Dover, he knew he would find Queen’s, which ought to have rooms.
He paused, drinking in the atmosphere. It felt good to be home—surprisingly good, in fact, considering the conditions under which he had left all those years ago.
“Go,”his mother had screamed, spittle foaming at her lips. “And I hope I never have to see your face again.”
She was about to be sorely disappointed; after putting up at Queen’s for the night, he had every intention of traveling to his childhood home, Danver Manor, and seeing his brother. He had been gone long enough.
“George!”
He turned to see a portly man advancing toward him, and his face broke into a surprised smile. “Uncle! What are you doing here?”
“Collecting you, of course.” He glanced down at George’s single bag. “Is that all the baggage you have with you?”
“It is. Is Frederick at home?”
His uncle, ruddy-faced in this heat, pulled out a handkerchief and mopped his brow. “He is.”
“Excellent. Are you here to take me to him?” George picked up his bag, conscious of a rather uncharacteristic enthusiasm. He hadn’t seen Frederick for over three years; hadn’t seen him, in fact, since his oldest brother Arthur had died. “I’m looking forward to seeing him,” he said at last. “How is he finding being Duke?”
“I believe he’s finding it tolerable under the circumstances,” his uncle said in a voice that repressed asking any further questions. “But I’m not here to take you to him.”
George stopped, his excitement fading. Suspicion replaced it, low and sour in his stomach. “What do you mean?”
“Precisely what I say, my boy. I thought you might be heading straight for him, and I was sent to head you off, so to speak.”
“You came all this way to—” He broke off with a shake of his head. “His Manor is my home, also,” he reminded his uncle, the bite of anger in his voice. “I am his brother.”
“You are your father’s bastard runt who was brought into the Manor by force of will alone,” his uncle whispered after glancing around, his face reddening. “If the Duke has decided you are not welcome in his Manor, then there is little you may do to fight it.”
“So that’s the situation, is it?” George’s voice was dangerously calm. Those who had known him any time over the past five years would have known it was a sign of burgeoning rage; another indication of that anger was the glittering light in his eyes. “Mother has her claws so deep in my brother’s back that he bows to her every demand?”
His uncle softened a little and held out a placatory hand. “I understand your frustration, but—”
“Do you, Uncle? Do you understand how frustrating it is for me, the third son of a Duke, to be sent summarily to Italy so I may find my own way in the world? And when I finally choose to return to the country of my birth, I find that I am no longer welcome in the Manor I used to call home.” His tone was sharp, and he clenched his fists by his side. “I come here with little else but the clothes on my back and you are telling me that I have nowhere in this world to go?”
“Your mother—”
“According to you, I should not consider her my mother,” George said icily.
“You are the third son in line to the title, and considering you have shown little inclination for staying away from scandal in the past, working is the only way you have of making your way in the world.”
“Then allow me to take orders. Offer me a living. I’m certain Danver Manor has an eligible one.”
“You know we cannot—”
“You do not mean cannot, you mean will not, and I hardly see whythatis a sufficient reason.”
His uncle sighed. “Your brother has already decided, and a footman’s position has been found for you. I’m to take you there.”
