To Dishonour A Duke

Chapter Five

A stray thought and a stab at procrastination has Clara spinning on her heel and marching back to the carriage. George raises an eyebrow in question and slides nearer to the door.

"If you truly wish to be my friend, then please tell me why you and your brother are so opposed to me meeting Lord Wellesley." She says in a rush, her hand on the edge of the door. "I know there is more than what you have said. No one has such vehement without cause."

Running a hand down his face, he rubs his chin and shakes his head, not looking at her. Then he drops his hand and turns to her, almost in admiration of her gall. "You do not play fair." He states, tension radiating from his body. Clara turns to go but he catches her wrist. "No, I will tell you, but not because you asked."

"Then why?"

"Because it is nothing more than a story for the worst of men, and as the son of one, I have no misgivings about my father's true nature being revealed, and that of Lord Wellesly." George lets her go, his expression blackening, and his voice hardened. "The wrath of Julian Cavendish was suffered by all, including his family, and it does not matter why he sought to be unjust, only that Daniel, my mother and I all suffered at his hand, day after day. My father was a terrible person sober, there is no doubt about it, but he was inhumane when drunk. Black Haven Rum was his drink of choice and the drink that fueled his worst outbursts. He bought the rum from Wellesely, who had offered him an investment deal in the company that made it."

"Selling rum is hardly a crime."

"No." He agrees, "But the amount he drank grew each day, and his violence was uncontainable. We were desperate, Daniel was desperate, so he went to Lord Wellesley and begged him to break the partnership, or at the very least to stop the regular shipments to our home. To Daniel's face, he agreed, but then the next day Wellesley sent fifteen crates to our house with his compliments.  A year's supply of alcohol at my father's fingertips. It was that day that he hit my mother for the first time, simply because she suggested that he store it for winter." He chokes, his voice thick with emotion. "What kind of person does that?"

Clara extends her hand and places it on his elbow. He looks down at it and then into her sympathetic eyes. Clearing his throat, he gently pushes her hand away and attempts a shaky smile. "You should head inside."

Clara inclines her head. "Till Friday eve then, and I thank you for the ride."

"Of course." He says, gruffly, "Once I secure an invitation, I shall send a letter with the arrangements. I look forward to a little chaos."

"As do I." She waves to the driver who has climbed up, and he dips his cap to her. With a steadying breath, she strides towards Chester Valley, gripping the handle of her trunk a little tighter than necessary.

"Clara." George's voice is carried by the slight wind and she turns around to see him leaning out of the carriage, concern upon his face. "I've added to your caution but you are not dissuaded are you?"

She lifts a shoulder.  "Needs must."

He seems to accept her words, as he parts from her with a grim nod and then raps on the door before pulling it shut. The driver leaps into action and lightly taps the horses with the long whip and they jump into a trot. He steers them around the fountain and out of the grounds of the estate, travelling back towards town. Clara watches them disappear out of the gate, squinting until the early morning darkness swallows them up. Alone, exhaustion weighing her down, and a headache forming at the back of her mind, she walks up to the front door and braces herself for the next wave of questions and concerns.

Her knock seems to echo around the silent landscape, as loud as a bullet cracking the night. She winces as the sound passes through her, and she fidgets on the top step, suddenly conscious of the lack of light from inside the manor. Made of marble stone, with delicately carved pillars on either side of the front porch, Chester Valley is a grand estate, boasting some of the most beautiful grounds that England has to offer. Recently renovated and brought into the modern style of the 18th century, the house is now the envy of the neighbours, and has held many extravagant parties for an exclusive collection of the upper class.