Chapter 1
Also by Ellie St. Clair
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Also By Ellie St. Clair
Standalone
Unmasking a Duke
Christmastide with His Countess
Her Christmas Wish
Happily Ever After
The Duke She Wished For
Someday Her Duke Will Come
Once Upon a Duke’s Dream
He’s a Duke, But I Love Him
Loved by the Viscount
Because the Earl Loved Me
Happily Ever After Box Set Books 1-3
Happily Ever After Box Set Books 4-6
Searching Hearts
Duke of Christmas
Quest of Honor
Clue of Affection
Hearts of Trust
Hope of Romance
Promise of Redemption
Searching Hearts Box Set (Books 1-5)
The Unconventional Ladies
Lady of Mystery
Lady of Fortune
Lady of Providence
Lady of Charade
Blooming Brides
A Duke for Daisy
A Marquess for Marigold
An Earl for Iris
A Viscount for Violet
The Bluestocking Scandals
Designs on a Duke
Inventing the Duke
1
London ~ 1820
The door knocker appeared to be frowning.
Rebecca tilted her head to better study the gigantic lion that stared her in the eye. This one was quite stoic and serious, its eyebrows narrowed in anger and, perhaps, a bit of worry. If the duke was attempting to discourage visitors, then he was certainly achieving his purpose.
“A door knocker should be welcoming, should it not?” she asked her father, who was making his own study of the front exterior of the house.
“It's a shame, really,” he murmured, looking around. “A house of this size, in the middle of London, kept secret from all eyes for years now. Look at the gardens on the southern side! But Becca, this house… why it’s not finished!”
“You’re right,” she said, her eyes widening. From afar it looked rather extravagant, but upon closer examination, all of the finishing details had not yet been completed. “We shall see what the interior holds. But Father, let’s not tell him any of our thoughts on his home until we further determine just why he has asked us here.”
“He quite obviously wants to hire us!” her father exclaimed indignantly. “I am in high demand, Becca. High demand! I have heard much of Wyndham House, you know. There were plans for it to be rather grand, but there is no need to determine just why it wasn’t completed, for it is quite obvious. Clearly the initial design was flawed. The duke must know that I will not simply follow another’s designs.”
“Father, we need this commission,” Rebecca said, tapping her foot nervously, hoping that her father would move on from his passionate criticism of what could be one of the grandest mansions in London.
All knew of Wyndham House, as it covered one of the largest footprints of any home in the city. But its fame was partially hinged on the fact that it had become something of a mystery.
It was nearly a decade now since the first brick had been laid, but for the past eight years, no one besides servants had set foot in it. The recently passed duke had been quite ill during his final years, and his visitors consisted solely of caretakers as he had no immediate relatives.
Which was partially why the dukedom had passed into the hands of this man, a far-removed cousin, who apparently had been unaware that he would someday become one of the most powerful men in England.
It was all quite intriguing. But Rebecca was intent on dismissing all of the gossip and fascination that surrounded the new duke and focusing on the task at hand. It would take all of her concentration to do so.
She took a deep breath as the door swung open.
“Good morning,” said the man Rebecca assumed to be the butler, though he was much younger than any butler she had ever met.
He was tall, handsome in a boyish way, and had a spark in his eye as he looked Rebecca up and down before turning his gaze onto her father.
“You must be Mr. Lambert,” he said. “I am Dexter. Do come in.”
Rebecca and her father stepped into the foyer, both of them immediately more interested in their surroundings than any of the human inhabitants.
The foyer was designed to impress but was lacking the details of a completed room. A dome in the ceiling had yet to be ornamented, and Rebecca thought that a gold inlay would make it sparkle like the sun. Perhaps with diamonds. There were cutouts in the wall for statues, the arched doorway beyond providing a glimpse of a grand staircase. How much better would it look, Rebecca mused, to be rid of the wall and have the staircase greet the arrivals? Something worth a discussion.
When they had finally finished their initial review as Dexter waited patiently, the three of them stood staring at one another.
“Is, ah, the duke in residence?” Rebecca finally asked. The butler, who stood before them, was unexpectedly hesitant.
“That’s just the thing, Miss…”
“Lambert. Mr. Lambert is my father.”
“Ah, yes, Miss Lambert. The duke was supposed to be here to meet you, but has not yet returned home.”
“I see,” Rebecca said, though, in truth, she was rather annoyed. So the new duke, despite his supposedly common upbringing, had already become like the rest of the nobility. “Shall we wait?”
“Of course,” he said, though he made no move to show them into the house.
“Is the drawing room available?” she suggested with a raised eyebrow.
The butler looked rather flustered.
“Perhaps the parlor would be better.”
“Very well,” Rebecca said, willing patience.
So they were to be relegated to the parlor. Apparently they were not fine enough quality to be shown to the drawing room.
It was likely under the duke’s own instructions. Rebecca had been around more than her fair share of the nobility as she had spent her life following her father from one commission to another. In some homes they were seen as upper servants, though her father had gained much respect over the years, the better his name became known. She was most often looked right through, seen almost like furniture.
“You see, Becca?” she heard her father murmur in her ear. “Unfinished. Ragged. Shameful.”