The American and the Duke

Chapter 2 Rowan

     “Rowan,” Will said. I groaned and opened my eyes. The sun is streaming through the curtains in my room. I saw my best friend and half brother William Derby standing over me. He was a year younger than I. His mother was a seamstress that papa had an affair with. When she died of smallpox. He took Will in reluctantly. Though never giving him the name of Howard. We both were attending Oxford together, and stayed at our father’s estate by Oxford. I groaned and rolled over, my head pounding from last night’s excursions. I was surprised I made it into my bed alive. The woman I brought home was already dressed to leave. Will handed her a few shillings and she left with a smile. I sat up, feeling the headache come on. There was definitely too much wine last night. Or maybe it was the whiskey. I never quite knew when to stop the drink.

“Rowan, a letter has arrived from London just now. I would get up,” Will said. I sat up and gave a look to my brother. He held the letter unopened in his hand. I got up and grabbed my robe and dragged my arms through it. News from London was never good. Papa is probably raging about something. Whether it be our excursions in town, or my choice of women. I had made it very clear that I would not marry unless he forced me.Though he was not one to judge, since his mistress was living in our house. He refused to remarry after my mother died. But he could not beat me down, I was his heir. And he knew it, I was  his one and only true son. Though he fathered many bastards through many mistresses. But my father was indifferent toward me. I grew up alone and unloved in my father’s household. He never gave me any approval, he only reprimanded me. I had grown up to hate my father. To spite him in any way I could. I took the letter and pulled back the curtain. It was another glorious English morning, the smell of grass and oak filled my nose. Sitting in the chair I tore it open. 

Rowan,

I write to you the most urgent and dire news. Your father is ill, and the physicians say he may not survive the week. Your housekeeper Mrs. Townton has urged me to write to you. Begging you to return to London. She urges you, as the only mother you know. Come to London immediately, and make your final farewells to your father. I would leave immediately as soon as you receive this letter. This could be the only time you say goodbye to your father.

Maria R,

I looked up from the letter. Maria never wrote to me. We pretended that we did not know one another. She was the newest mistress in my father's long line of them. So I often spent time at this estate and not in London. She was someone that my father used at his pleasure. But my father was ill, he was never ill. But if Mrs. Townton was urging me to return. Then I will return. She was the only motherly figure I know. She taught me how to be compassionate and empathetic, how to treat others with dignity and respect. She taught me how to be a true gentleman. Though my time at Oxford had challenged that notion. I was known for being a rake, a playboy. I really did not care, love meant nothing to me. I had no intention of marrying or loving anyone. The thought of it made me sick, I had seen what love had done to many. I did not want to be another one of its victims.

“What is it Rowan,” Will asked. I looked up at my younger brother. We had grown together since the ages of 8 and 9. He knew and felt the same indifference from our father. Most times he pretended that Will did not even exist. Unless something had happened.  If we had gotten into some kind of trouble or we were caught at some establishment. Our dear father had blamed Will. Though most of the time it was me who got us in most of the messes at Oxford. I handed him the letter and he read it quickly.

“Maria is writing to you,” he exclaimed. I nodded my head and got up. I tossed the robe from my shoulders and went to get dressed. If Maria was right then we had to leave now.

“Well if Mrs. Townton says it is urgent then we should leave. I will get the horses ready,” Will replied. I nodded and he left the room. If  my father was truly dying, and did in fact die. Then I would be the Duke of Kent. And all my dreams of traveling and practicing law will end. And no doubt I would have to marry someone I did not love. That I did not want with my entire being. That I would marry someone only to produce sons and heirs. And that future angered me. My father knew that I had no interest in running estates and handled the business that came with being a Duke. I sighed, grabbing my riding gloves. Maybe my father will not die. But he did recover, then I could enjoy my life. Even if for a little while. I went down to the kitchen, grabbed some food for Will and I. And then went to meet him at the stables. Will was just finishing saddling his horse when I walked up. He looked up and gave me a small encouraging smile.