Emerald For a Duke

Emerald For A DukeJewels of The TonPrudence King Copyright © 2023 Prudence King All rights reservedThe characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the publisher's express written permission. For permissions contact: [email protected]: 9798986112305 ISBN-13: 9798986112312 First edition, 2023Cover design by: Rebecca & Adeel AhmadLibrary of Congress Control Number: 2018675309Printed in the United States of America To my husband who always supports my crazy ideas, my moodiness, and my sometimes over-the-top, spiced, personality. Emerald for a DukeJewels of The TonPrudence King PrologueLeeds, England 1840Vivienne St. Claire stared down the man as if he’d just grown horns before her eyes. This man had just informed her that a stranger, a Viscount, was claiming to be her father. She tried desperately to focus on the words coming from this solicitor's mouth as she fidgeted nervously in his cramped office. According to him, this gentleman wished to have an audience with her. This unfeeling and dry barrister had scattered several letters and envelopes among the tea table in front of her. Before she had a chance to ask any questions, the man pointed towards a stack of letters claiming they were indelible proof that the Viscount was indeed her father. He then proceeded to draw attention to the parish directory from the day of her birth, denoting her mother's name and a blank space occupying what should include her father’s name.“Ms. St. Claire, as you can see, I have in my possession several handwritten letters between your mother and father in addition to the parish directory from your day of birth, which was in your father’s possession. I have supplied these documents to help further the legitimacy of his claim.”“I don’t understand. Why would this gentleman wish to meet with me all these years later? I don’t see how a blank space in a receiving book and a few letters validate a claim of fatherhood.” This was the last thing Vivienne needed on the eve of her eighteenth birthday. Her freedom was within her grasp; she would leave this orphanage, town, and the place which held so many dark memories. But as she read through these letters, she felt that liberty slipping away from her.“I do apologize, sir, but I can not accept any of which you’ve laid before me. These letters only serve to prove that someone has a vivid imagination.”“Ms. St. Claire, I can attest that this man is indeed whom he says he is, and the Viscount of Davies hails from a long and credible line with a considerable estate and holdings accompanying the title. You should not be concerned about his legitimacy. Your father…ahem... Viscount Davies has instructed me to make all the necessary arrangements for your trip.” He handed an envelope to Vivienne. “Within are the names of several coaching inns expecting your arrival. You will also find enough coins to pay for necessities along the way. The room and board, as well as the hired coach, have been paid for. That very hackney is waiting for you outside. It is suggested you begin your journey post haste.”Vivienne took the envelope and studied the contents. Although the money contained within was considerable, it was in no way enough to entice her to take such a bold and dangerous journey. “Do forgive me, but I don’t recall a mention of my destination.”“Your father’s estate is in the seat of Carlisle, and he wishes for you to come directly.” “What you have provided me doesn’t validate that he is my father. And I beg your pardon, this man, this stranger, wishes me to travel to Scotland… to him?”“Miss, it's not quite Scotland. As you do not have a lady's maid, the Viscount will provide you with one for the duration of the ride. His Grace would not wish to jeopardize your honor. I can assure you all proper care will be exhausted to ensure you arrive safely and with your reputation intact.”Reputation? She had no reputation. She was a bastard, an orphan, with no status and nothing to her name. She had a few coins from odd jobs she’d performed over the years but nothing of great consequence. And this man, her “father,” thought she was concerned about her reputation. He obviously came from a different level of society than her and undoubtedly applied the knowledge of that demographic to her situation. “He knows I’ve grown up in an orphanage,” she said to herself. Looking once more at the envelope, she studied the contents more thoroughly. There was not enough money to see her to Scotland, not even if she used her own money, but it would be enough to get her to London. If she stopped there, she should have enough money for temporary lodging, and by being prudent, she would have enough to live off of until she could obtain a suitable post. Perhaps she saw this in the wrong light. With the right modification, this could be everything she ever dreamt possible. She slowly rose from the chair while quietly stowing the envelope into her dress pocket. She made direct eye contact with the solicitor.“I can not fathom that any gentleman with claims of being a relative of mine would send for me in such fashion. I’ve seen men exhibit better sense when picking horseflesh. No, this is not how you go about meeting someone, let alone one’s daughter.” Vivienne inhaled deeply as she straightened her posture. She needed to appear as imposing and in control as possible. “And if my father wishes to meet me, he will find a more proper way in which to do so. Good day, sir.” Without looking back, she rushed out of the room, ran past the front door, and jumped into the awaiting hackney.“To London!”