EMILY BARNET
The Haunted Duke of Ravenwood - First Chapters - Preview
Prologue
Ravenwood Hall, Yorkshire, 1810
It all came to a head right now.
A grin cut across Arthur’s face as he lifted his brows at his brother. “Well, are you going to play or not?”
“Give me a moment. I am thinking.” Gregory Montford’s dark brows knitted together in concentration. It wasn’t often that Arthur witnessed such an expression on his older brother’s face. Normally, it was Gregory grinning from ear to ear while Arthur sat pondering his next chess move. But he had been practising a lot with his mother, who was yet to be bested by anyone else in the manor, and he was fairly certain that he’d surpassed his brother.
Now he only needed to do so with every other skill. Perhaps horse racing next.
Arthur interlaced his fingers behind his head, cockiness dripping from his posture. Gregory’s eyes flickered to him with annoyance.
“You think you have me bested, do you?” Gregory grumbled.
“I know I have you bested,” Arthur corrected. “I am simply patiently waiting until you admit it yourself.”
“You do not win until you call checkmate.”
“Then make your move, Greg.”
Gregory gritted his teeth and Arthur didn’t bother holding back his laughter. He leaned forward, watching Gregory closely as he finally moved his pawn to the only spot available for him. The spot Arthur had forced him into.
“How should I say it?” Arthur asked with a broad grin. “Should I whisper it so that you may save face or shout it from the rooftops?”
“Oh, for goodness sake, just end it already.”
Arthur stood, dramatically picking up his rook. He raised it high above his head, not missing the twinkle of humour in Gregory’s eyes even though he scowled at him. He even waited a bit, needing to savour the moment.
“Checkmate!” he sighed heavily, placing his rook and effectively ending the game.
Gregory shook his head. He raised his hands, then clapped slowly. “Good job, Arthur. I scarcely thought you had it in you to best me.”
“That was your first mistake, brother. You should have known that my only motivation is to be better than you in every area of life.”
“It was but a single game of chess. Surely you do not believe that signifies you are now my superior.”
Arthur only shrugged, hopping to his feet. The bottle of whiskey they’d brought with them to the chess table was already empty so he fetched another from the sideboard across the room. “It only starts with one.”
Gregory chuckled, saying nothing as Arthur poured him another drink. The silence was accentuated by the gentle roar of rain outdoors, battering the windows in one of those storms that were very rare for this time of the year. Rainy days usually meant the family gathered in the private drawing room to play games and spend time with each other before bed. Lately, such occurrences only happened with Gregory.
“You are fortunate that Mother did not join us this evening,” Gregory spoke at last. “She would have challenged you just to humble you.”
Arthur shrugged. “Everyone knows that none of us will ever be able to beat her at chess. But it is always good practice going up against her. She is the only reason I was able to surpass your skill.”
“You have not surpassed me,” Gregory grumbled. “You only won one game.”
“Yes, yes. Keep telling yourself that.”
Gregory huffed a laugh, shaking his head. Again, they both fell silent, turning their eyes to the utter blackness on the other side of the window. Arthur knew where Gregory’s thoughts wandered. It was the same place his did. Times were changing. Nothing stayed the same.
Now instead of boisterous rounds of several different games, with Arthur and Gregory taking sides against their parents, it was just them. The two sons of the Duke and Duchess of Ravenwood were left alone, with their parents tucked away in bed since after seven. Their dwindling health made it necessary, made doing anything else this time of night taxing. The spirit was willing, surely, but their bodies could no longer keep up.
The family physician could not determine the cause. They were still young, after all. Barely past fifty years. And yet they suffered from fatigue and megrims like a man twice their age. Arthur didn’t like thinking about it, but on a night like this, he couldn’t stop it.
“You know…” Gregory’s voice dragged him out of his reverie. “You have truly matured into the man I always knew you could be.”
For a moment, Arthur could only stare at him. He wasn’t used to hearing such sentimental words from his brother. He forced a chuckle. “You doubted that I would?”
“For a while, I did,” Gregory admitted, his tone sombre. “You are eight-and-twenty. You may not be in line for the dukedom but that does not mean you do not have a duty to his family. Yet you spend your days in complete enjoyment as if you do not care about your future.”
“So what made you change your mind?” Arthur asked, raising one brow.
“Well, for one, you appear to be quite earnest in your courtship of Lady Rosalind. She is a charming young lady and will make a suitable wife for you. I know it has only been a few months, but you must understand that you cannot delay too long in asking for her hand.”
“Grand words, coming from a man who is not courting anyone at all. Shouldn’t you be searching for the future Duchess of Ravenwood?”
Gregory waved a dismissive hand, grimacing as he took a sip of his drink. Arthur smirked, well aware that his brother’s expression had less to do with the liquor than with the thought of marriage itself. “That time will come in due course. Thankfully, I need not concern myself with it until after I inherit the dukedom.”
“And I do?”
“Yes. You are the second son. What other purpose might you serve?”
Had that come from anyone else, Arthur would have taken offence. Instead, he laughed. “I cannot argue with that logic, I suppose.”
“The point is, I see you are taking your role seriously, even if you are intent on pretending otherwise. Now,” Gregory leaned closer, eyes gleaming with intrigue, “when do you intend to ask Lady Rosalind to become your wife?”
Arthur didn’t have an answer to that. Thankfully, the door banged open and the butler raced in before he could come up with one.
“My lords!” he gasped. “An urgent letter from Lady Rosalind has arrived.”
Arthur frowned as he shot to his feet. The concern on the butler’s face instantly put him on edge, the letter dotted with rainwater even more so. It was the middle of the night and there was a terrible storm outside. Why would Rosalind send him a letter now, when she’d never done so before?
Arthur quickly unravelled the letter, eyes skimming over her elegant scrawl, trying to decipher the words that had been smudged with water. It was short yet urgent.
He raised horrified eyes to Gregory, who had come to his side. “Rosalind needs me.”
“What does it say?” Gregory’s brows knitted together. Gone was the amiable older brother and in his stead was the stalwart man who was set to inherit a dukedom.
“She says she is stranded at a nearby inn and that there is a group of men looking for her. She thinks she is in danger.”
“Why is she at an inn—”
“There’s no time for questions!” Arthur tossed the letter aside, stalking to the door. “Nothing good can come of a lady being left alone in such a predicament. She is plainly distressed enough to send for assistance, and therefore I shall go to her aid.”
“Very well. I shall come with you.”
Arthur came up short, hand on the door. He looked at his brother and saw nothing but quiet determination there. He didn’t hesitate to nod. “Thank you. Two of us will certainly fare better than if I were to go alone.”
Gregory nodded and that was that. They were out the door seconds later.
The safest way of travelling in this weather was by carriage but Gregory still had to convince Arthur to take that option, rather than hopping atop a horse since that was objectively faster. They were on their way within a matter of minutes, despite the late hour, and hurtling fast to the nearest inn.
Arthur didn’t know how or when it happened. His heart was in his chest, his mind racing through a thousand different thoughts when he was suddenly lurching into the air. There was a moment of complete stillness, of bemusement.
And then the world crashed down around him.
He closed his eyes against it because all he knew was pain. All he knew was that the carriage was splintering apart around him, that the horses were wailing, and the rain was now soaking into his clothes. He didn’t open his eyes once, even when he heard someone calling his name, because there was nothing but pain. Seeping up from his legs, throbbing on the side of his head.
Pain and pain and then…
Nothing.
CHAPTER One
Worthshire House, London, 1814
Emmeline knocked tentatively on the door of her father’s study and waited. She held her breath, counted the seconds. She imagined her father on the other end putting away his documents and plopping his quill pen in its inkpot so that he could give her his undivided attention. And then, “Come in.”
She slipped in, closed the door behind her, and made her way to the armchair across his desk. Usually, when summoned to his office, he was alone. This time, her mother was there as well, smiling.
It was an odd enough sight to immediately put her on edge. Her parents did not love each other—Emmeline had no illusions on that score. But of late, it seemed as though they no longer even respected each other. Where they had once maintained the pretence of cordiality, dining together and exchanging polite conversation, Emmeline observed that her mother now treated her husband with nothing but coldness. She never asked about it, but the question lingered in her mind: why?.
So seeing them smiling at her, appearing as a united front, was a little unsettling.
“Father,” she spoke at last. “You called for me?”
Lord Henry Worth, Baron Worthshire, nodded eagerly. “There is an important matter your mother and I would like to speak with you about.”
Emmeline tried not to show her cautiousness. “What is it?”
Lady Margaret Worth spoke next. “It is about your future, Em. About the future of our family.”
Her heart sank. There was only one future for Emmeline—for any lady born to a titled gentleman. To marry and to marry well. Emmeline had always longed for the day she would find her husband, but she didn’t want a marriage like the one her parents had. She wanted love. Respect. Openness.
Yet she knew well that such a thing was a rare find in London, and it became all the more difficult when it was sought through her parents, rather than by her own choosing.
Not wishing to repeat herself, she simply stayed quiet and waited.
Henry continued, “I’m sure you are aware that we have been facing some… financial difficulties of late.”
From the sharp glare Margaret cast his way, it was clear that the matter went far beyond mere “difficulties.” Henry shifted uncomfortably, as if he could feel his wife’s gaze, but he pressed on.
“That is the reason you were unable to attend this Season. We simply could not afford it. But I did not want the same fate to befall Louisa when it is her turn to debut in a couple of years.”
“We have the solution, Em,” Margaret picked up. Emmeline didn’t miss the sparkle in her eyes. She could not tell when last she’d seen her mother so spirited. “Your father’s terrible financial investments will be a thing of the past within just one week.”
“Margaret—”
“Oh, come now, she is old enough to know the truth,” Margaret said sharply. “And she deserves to know, especially since the burden has been unwittingly placed upon her shoulders.”
Henry thinned his lips, frowning up at his wife. Margaret met it with equal intensity.
Emmeline cleared her throat. “Could someone explain what is happening?”
Margaret returned her attention to Emmeline and smiled. “You will be married, my darling.”
Emmeline gripped her skirts, fighting the wave of tears that immediately attacked her. “To…to whom?”
“The Duke of Ravenwood,” Henry supplied. “Have you heard of him?”
Emmeline could only stare blankly at him. She could not find her voice, even if she could find the words.
“Well, he does not frequent London often, I hear,” Henry went on. “But I was well acquainted with the late Duke before his passing two years ago. The current Duke resides in Yorkshire and seems quite content to remain there. He did, however, accept my proposal to have you become his wife.”
“I understand this is not the ending you wished for yourself, my dear,” Margaret said as she rounded the desk, putting a hand on Emmeline’s shoulder. “But every lady must marry. You are already four-and-twenty. Another year and no one will want a spinster. This is the only chance you will get to secure your future before it is too late.”
“And secure the future of this family as well,” Emmeline murmured, and Margaret was close enough to hear her.
“Yes, that is another boon.” Margaret didn’t seem capable of containing her excitement. She made her way back to her husband’s side, hands clasped under her chin. “Louisa and Catherine will have no trouble making their debut if we can benefit from the Duke’s wealth.”
“And I shall be able to pay off a few of my debts,” Henry added with a grin. “I am certain the Duke will not mind assisting his new father-in-law.”
The conversation was making her feel ill. Emmeline kept her eyes on the floor, blinking away the tears as quickly as they came.
“The Duke will accept me without a dowry?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “I assume I would not have one if we are so pauperised.”
“Yes, he says he has no use for what little money we are able to scrounge up,” her father said. He didn’t seem the slightest bit offended by such a statement. “Quite fortuitous, wouldn’t you say?”
Emmeline could only nod. After a moment, she managed to swallow the lump forming in her throat long enough to ask, “When am I to be married?”
“Within two days,” Margaret stated. At Emmeline’s look of horrified surprise, she added, “The Duke wished for it to be done as quickly as possible and we saw no reason not to. The Season will be coming to an end soon, Em, so we should take advantage of it. We did not want to risk him changing his mind.”
Emmeline lowered her head slightly, blinking back her tears. It was already decided, she told herself. There was nothing she could do. Even if she were to weep, shout, and throw the most dramatic tantrum imaginable, she would still be forced down the aisle in two days to marry a stranger.
The truth was, she’d always assumed something like this might happen. She had only hoped that it wouldn’t.
“I understand.” She couldn’t be in the room any longer. She stood, head still bowed. “I shall make sure I am prepared.”
“Emmeline…” Henry called just as she turned towards the door. Emmeline gave herself a moment to compose herself before she faced him. He looked apologetic. “It is for the best.”
She didn’t respond. She simply headed out of the room.
She’d barely closed the door completely behind her when two figures darted out from behind the large potted plant by the door. Emmeline sucked in a breath in alarm, then released it slowly when she realised it was only her two younger sisters, staring up at her with eagerness. Two identical faces with button noses, flushed cheeks, and chestnut brown hair settling in waves down their backs blinked up at her with green eyes.
“You’re getting married?” Louisa whispered excitedly, grabbing Emmeline’s left hand.
“To a duke?” Catherine asked, grabbing her right hand.
Emmeline swallowed the fear, outrage, and horror—along with every other negative emotion that had been assailing her—and focused her attention on her sisters. “You two know that it is improper to eavesdrop.”
“We could not help ourselves,” Louisa explained with one of those adorable pouts she used to get her way. “When we’d heard that Father called for you, we grew curious.”
“And how did you hear that?” Emmeline asked with a raise of her brow.
Louisa slid her eyes to Catherine and the youngest of the three had the good sense to look sheepish. “I was listening to Mother and Father talk before they did.”
Emmeline sighed and shook her head. She couldn’t bother lecturing them, especially since they were well aware of their wrongdoings. There were far more pressing matters occupying her thoughts at present.
So she simply turned and walked away, needing to clear her head with a bit of embroidery. Unsurprisingly, her sisters flocked to her side.
“You’re going to marry a duke, Em!” she squealed. “Aren’t you excited?”
“Were you not listening? I do not know him. He is a stranger to me.”
“But he is a duke,” Catherine protested.
“And?” Emmeline asked. She hoped they couldn’t tell how weak her voice was, how difficult it was for her to have this conversation with them when she could hardly wrap her mind around it herself. Emmeline didn’t like showing them when something was wrong.
“And,” Louisa answered, “the life of a duke should be exciting, shouldn’t it? And you will be a duchess! You will have a lifestyle that we could never dream of having.”
Emmeline could only offer a wan smile. They made it to the drawing room and she promptly sat down in her usual armchair by the window, picking up the embroidery she’d left there before her father sent for her.
“It should be no different from the life we live now.”
Catherine sank onto the chaise longue across from her, Louisa taking her side, and scowled. “I sincerely doubt that. We are halfway through the London Season and we have not been to a single event.”
Emmeline flicked her eyes up to her. “You are only four-and-ten. You would not have been invited. And you…,” she went on, turning her attention to Louisa before her sister could speak, “I doubt Mother would have allowed you to debut this year anyway.”
“But what of you?” Louisa protested. “You should have been at a ball every night. Why were you not?”
Emmeline couldn’t think of a proper response. She’d long suspected that they were financially unable to do many things her peers could do but she’d never asked to confirm. Now that she was essentially being sold off to a duke, it was all the confirmation she needed. But the last thing she wanted was to make her sisters aware of their dire situation.
“It must be because we are not as influential as a duke,” Catherine said with all the confidence of a philosopher. “Father is quite smart to have secured your match with someone with such a grand title, Em.”
Emmeline pretended she was too engrossed in her embroidery and only hummed in response.
“The wedding will be in two days,” Louisa continued. “What kind of wedding can be planned in two days?”
“Perhaps it is already being planned?” Catherine wondered aloud.
“Do you think there will be a quartet?”
“There has to be! It is the wedding of a duke, after all.”
They squealed excitedly, chattering on about the upcoming wedding. Emmeline only listened with half an ear, happy that they’d moved on from asking her difficult questions. It allowed her to slip into her mind and truly consider what was going to happen in just two days.
She would become Lady Emmeline, the Duchess of Ravenwood, embarking on a new chapter of her life. Why did it feel like it was only the beginning of the end?
CHAPTER Two
Ravenwood Hall in Yorkshire was a gothic mansion that boasted winding hallways and grand windows, surrounded by sprawling land that led to foggy moors and dark forests. To a child, perhaps, it was something out of a nightmare. To Arthur, it was his home and the only place that brought him peace.
Ravenwood House in London was nothing of the sort.
It fitted in perfectly with the other lavish townhouses in Mayfair, with white brick walls and bay windows overlooking the busy streets. He stood at one of those windows, in the main drawing room, with his hands clasped behind his back and a scowl on his face as he watched ladies and gentlemen go back and forth atop horses and within carriages. All he wanted to do was go back home.
He didn’t make it a habit of coming to London. Even back then, back before his entire life had been flipped upside down, he always opted to remain in Yorkshire whenever his parents and Gregory had business in London. He hadn’t even attended the London Season before and he liked it that way. Especially now.
But business had brought him here—business in the form of the daughter of a baron, who would soon be his wife.
Every time he thought of it, he gritted his teeth in irritation. There was nothing he would like less than to be married.
“What are you thinking, Your Grace?”
Arthur slid his eyes to the side, noticing Mr Jarvis standing in his peripheral vision. He hadn’t even heard him come in.
“What do you think?” Arthur responded curtly, his voice low with frustration. “I want to return home.”
As soon as the words were out his mouth, he regretted it, hating how childish he sounded. His valet’s next words did not make him feel any better.
“It shall be arranged in a matter of days, Your Grace,” Mr Jarvis said patiently, coming to stand slightly behind him. “Once the wedding is concluded, you will be free to return to Ravenwood Hall.”
“You know as well as I that it will be more difficult than that.”
“It need not be, if you so wish it, Your Grace.”
Arthur turned away from the window, striding to the sideboard. He could almost feel Jarvis’ look of disapproval boring into his back, but he paid it no mind. Jarvis did not approve of Arthur’s habit of drinking when in a foul mood—though that was, admittedly, most of the time. Jarvis’ opinion, however, held little influence with Arthur, a fact that suited him just fine.
“You must also know that it is not that simple,” Arthur grumbled once he had a healthy amount of whiskey in his glass. He moved back to the window, pointedly resisting the urge to glance at the mirror next to the hearth. It would only further ruin his day.
“Lord Constance has been seeking a meeting with me for some time now and now that I am in London, I doubt I will be able to put him off for much longer. Had it not been for the fact that he is a large investor in the textile business, I would ignore him altogether. Not to mention the fact that I have meetings with suppliers since they insist on talking directly to me. Otherwise, I would have let Norton handle it.”
Norton, his steward, handled many of the business matters that would take Arthur away from the safety of his Yorkshire manor, but he was sadly still limited in what he could do.
“I see,” Jarvis hummed, still remaining just out of sight. “Were it not for those factors, you would not have needed to leave Yorkshire at all. Your future wife would have gladly come to you, I’m certain.”
“Future wife,” Arthur spat. “It sickens me just thinking about it.”
“You are doing the right thing, Your Grace.”
“I know very well that I am doing the right thing.” His tone was sharper than it needed to be, but Arthur couldn’t bring himself to care. “I am merely doing it because I have to. Only because it is my duty as the Duke.”
“Your father would have been proud.”
Arthur whipped his head around, glaring at the older man. To his credit, Jarvis didn’t flinch. He even maintained eye contact, his lined face unmoving.
Arthur considered shouting at him for a moment but simply took a large gulp of his drink instead. Jarvis was right. His father would be proud. The late Duke of Ravenwood had only wanted one thing for Arthur—to marry well and, above all, avoid bringing scandal to the family. It was very little responsibility compared to what his brother had to bear.
But his brother was no longer alive. And within months, his parents had left him as well. Arthur had no one and nothing but a dukedom that should not have been his in the first place.
He spent years wallowing, drifting around the lonely, massive manor wearing the scars of his terrible decisions. Had it not been for him, Gregory would still be alive. His parents might have been as well, not crippled by the sudden death of their eldest son.
Had Arthur stopped Gregory from going with him that night, then perhaps he would have been able to live with himself.
Now, he was not merely the Duke of Ravenwood; he was the Beastly Duke as well. Scarred both physically and emotionally, he could no longer remember the man he had once been.
Silence drifted into the drawing room as Arthur’s thoughts wandered to that fateful night like they had every day for the past four years. It was suddenly interrupted by a knock on the door.
Arthur didn’t move. But he didn’t listen as Jarvis quietly made his way to the door and opened it. He heard murmurs behind him before the door clicked closed.
“A letter has arrived for you, Your Grace,” Jarvis told him. Then added after a beat, “Unmarked.”
Arthur tightened his grip on his glass. Another unmarked letter. No seal, no indication of whom it came from. But this was the first one being received at this location. Which meant that whoever was sending it knew that he’d left Yorkshire.
“Give it here,” he ordered, holding out his hand. He stilled his features though his heart pounded against his chest as he unfolded the letter.
It was like all the others. An open threat for him to give up all he had and retreat to the countryside or else his involvement in his brother’s death would be revealed. This one, however, added that there was nowhere he could run where he would not be found.
Rage consumed him. He was tempted to send the letter up in flames and ashes had it not been for the sane voice in the back of his head telling him to keep it. He had been receiving these letters for the past few months now and he was no closer to figuring out who might be sending them. He didn’t have any enemies, after all. At least, not any that he knew of.
The accident that had claimed his brother’s life was not well-known to others. In fact, Arthur was determined to keep it a secret, to maintain his brother’s memory as best as he could. Even though he’d alienated himself from society, which only sparked unusual rumours about the charming lord who’d become a scarred beast, no one truly knew the truth. He had every intention of ensuring it stayed that way.
Whoever was threatening him knew how important his brother’s memory was. But they didn’t know Arthur as well as they thought they did. They didn’t know that, now that the gauntlet had been thrown, he would stop at nothing to find out who was behind this.
Wordlessly, he handed the letter to Jarvis and turned back to the window. His valet would know what to do with it.
Only a few more days in London, he told himself. A few more days and a wedding to a stranger—simply to fulfil his duty to continue the line—and he could be back home. Back in his sanctuary where he could wallow and scowl as much as he could. And figure out who was trying to take what little he had left in life.
I hope you enjoyed the preview of “The Haunted Duke of Ravenwood” which is my new Regency novel! Stay tuned for the rest of the book!