His Enterprising Duchess

His Enterprising Duchess Enterprising Women, Book 1 Peri Maxwell © Copyright 2023 by Peri Maxwell Text by Peri Maxwell Cover by Kim Killion Dragonblade Publishing, Inc. is an imprint of Kathryn Le Veque Novels, Inc. P.O. Box 23 Moreno Valley, CA 92556 [email protected] Produced in the United States of America First Edition January 2023 Kindle Edition Reproduction of any kind except where it pertains to short quotes in relation to advertising or promotion is strictly prohibited. All Rights Reserved. The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author. License Notes: This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook, once purchased, may not be re-sold. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. 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Without your support, there is no ‘us’, so we sincerely hope you adore these stories and find some new favorite authors along the way. Happy Reading! CEO, Dragonblade Publishing For Sherry, who dared me to write a “long dress” book, and then had to listen to me whine about it for…a long time. And for Brenda, who I truly wish was here to read it. Table of Contents Title Page Copyright Page Publisher’s Note Dedication Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty-One Chapter Twenty-Two Chapter Twenty-Three Chapter Twenty-Four Chapter Twenty-Five Chapter Twenty-Six Chapter Twenty-Seven Chapter Twenty-Eight Chapter Twenty-Nine Chapter Thirty Chapter Thirty-One Epilogue Acknowledgments About the Author Chapter One Norfolk, England: July, 1845 Oliver Hawkins was home. Or back in England, anyway. The landscape outside the carriage window was no longer the mammoth trees of the Canadian wilderness he’d loved from the moment he’d landed there. Instead, he saw stooped and crooked saplings starving for the water that had turned the road to a thick, gooey mud that sucked at the coach wheels like a living thing. Those trees could be healthy and strong if they had a chance for sunshine. The older trees looming overhead gobbled up everything in their fight to stay alive. With the right kind of care, this forest could last for generations. The challenge danced through Oliver’s brain. It was something Garrett never would have considered, but now… Oliver flexed his fingers, and the too-tight black gloves scraped his knuckles. They’d been delivered by Emmett, who’d been waiting on the dock in Ipswich. “Lord Garrett died while you were at sea, m’lord.” With that, Oliver had inherited his brother’s gloves, cravat, and title without question or explanation. Their trip now had an urgency borne by duty. “Look, Papa! An elk!” The excitement jerked his head right to the four-year-old with his nose pressed against the glass, wobbling on his feet as they hit a bump in the road. “Get away from the door, Simon.” Instead of obeying, the little boy twisted farther, craning to see behind them and using the door latch for balance. “But, Papa—” Oliver snatched him up and plopped him onto the seat. The leather was worn shiny by generations who came and went regardless of their personal desires. “Sit still.” The last thing he needed was to get Simon across an ocean only to have the carriage squish him into the mud so near to the end of their journey. Dread pooled in his gut, cold and murky like the puddled ruts they splashed through. And, when he heard the sniffle behind him, guilt thickened the mess. Oliver pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, but the rocking made him seasick—worse than the month aboard ship. He should have hired a nurse, someone to distract the boy and give him the pleasure of moping. The traitorous thought made Oliver’s already weary shoulders droop lower. He didn’t need a nurse. Simon was his child, and the boy had dealt with enough on this adventure he’d regretted the moment they’d lost sight of the shore. Oliver knew the feeling. Twice over. He sat and put his arm around his son’s thin shoulders. “I know you’re tired, hijo. I am, too. But when we get there, you can run all you want.” Oliver’s brain twitched at the lie, but the father in him dug in his heels. Simon would not be condemned to his childhood. Oliver had made that vow four years earlier, and he was going to stick to it. “Shall we find your elk?” Tears forgotten, Simon crawled into his lap and the two of them stared at the trees behind the coach. A large stag, by Suffolk standards, crashed through the underbrush. Oliver lowered the glass, but the sound was swallowed up by rain, hoof beats, and the jangle of harness. “Did you climb these trees, Papa?” The boy had