BALDWIN STOOD IN shock for a moment as did the other man with the shabby clothing. Then, the solicitor snapped into motion.

"Your Grace, if you would follow me into my office, it might be a more suitable location for our discussion?"

James scowled at him but walked through the hallways into an office that thankfully looked much nicer than the rest of the building. He took a seat in the chair and slammed the papers on the plain desk. Baldwin closed the door behind him.

"You best begin speaking," James threatened.

Baldwin sighed heavily before occupying the other chair. "It began when I was cleaning my father's office. He passed away two years ago but it was only recently that I was able to bring myself to search through his possessions."

James felt a slight slimmer of empathy for the man. He had lost his own father years ago when he was a child, and he still missed the former Duke of Lennox.

"In his files, I came across the papers I sent to you. I had no prior knowledge about those papers and my father had not mentioned them in his lifetime."

Neither had James' father. Although he didn't believe his seven-year-old self would have understood the true nature of the betrothal. His father probably meant to address the matter with him at a later date but never got the chance to do so. "What was your father's name?"

Baldwin cleared his throat, "Jacob. He was a kind man and a good solicitor."

James vaguely remembered reading the name in some of his father's documents. He must have been the previous duke's solicitor. James had been extremely young when his father passed. He had been shipped off to Eton while his great-aunt controlled most of his assets and the estates after his mother felt ill. She must have been the one to switch solicitors to the man James now employed.

"Do you know anything about the Lady whom I'm supposedly betrothed to?"

Baldwin nodded before standing up and retrieving a stack of papers from the corner of the room. "I did try to do some research but without hiring a Bow Street Runner it wasn't quite easy or throughout. As you can imagine, my funds were limited." He gestured to his office in embarrassment. 

James ignored the statement and held out his palm impatiently as he read the name. "Lady Selina, she is the daughter of the Earl of Westmorland, correct?"

James had vague memories of the Earl, he had been close to the previous duke, often visiting Chalcott manor with his daughter. While his memory was a bit hazy around the Earl, he could not remember the daughter, she had been very young at that time, and thus something avoided.

"Yes, the previous Earl of Westmorland was her father."

James' eyes snapped up, "Who hold's the title now?"

"Her uncle, the earl's brother was the heir to the earldom."

"And the lady?"

A bead of sweat gathered in Baldwin's forehead. "Well..."

James cocked an eyebrow, "Spit it out."

"She has been missing for nearly fifteen years and is presumed to be dead."

James was gobsmacked. He had not anticipated Baldwin's answer, but things might work in his favour now. "If she is dead, then the betrothal contract is null."

Baldwin coughed into his handkerchief. "Well, not quite."

James waited for the man to continue.

"There is another stipulation. I did not send it to you, fearing that it might fall in the wrong hands."

James sighed; this whole business was bothersome. He wore his looking glasses to take a look at the next document Baldwin produced.

This document hereby serves as the official betrothal contract between Lady Selina, daughter of The Earl of Westmoreland and Marquess Harrington, James Fulton, son of The Duke of Lennox. The dowry provided to the Marquess Harrington upon marriage is Denbury Manor and a sum of 50,000 pounds. The manor will remain in Lady Selina's control but bear the Marquess Harrington's name. If the betrothal contract is broken by Marquess Harrington, Lady Selina will receive Chalcott Manor as a payment—with the stipulation that she may not sell it. If Lady Selina request the betrothal contract be terminated, she will be required to give up Denbury Manor. The terms of the betrothal contract may not be altered at any point. Should both Lady Selina and Lord Harrington consent to not marry, each group shall retain their respective assets.

At the bottom were signatures by both the Duke of Lennox and Earl of Westmoreland stating they had signed the papers at Chalcott Manor, on the eve of Thursday May 14, 1802.

James glanced up at Baldwin in disbelief. "This must be fabricated, correct?"

That was the only explanation besides the Earl and Duke being deep into their cups and writing a betrothal contract for the sake of laughter.

Baldwin shook his head, "No, it is legally binding. You might have it abolished by the House of the Lords if provided sufficient enough evidence of Lady Selina's death."

James' eyebrows rose, "There isn't enough evidence in regard to Lady Selina's death?"

"No, Your Grace. After the death of the Earl, my father went to Denbury Manor, but Lady Selina had vanished. A couple of her trunks had been ransacked but there was no evidence of force entry. It is believed that she ran away."

James frowned, how was it possible for a child to run away herself. Someone must have assisted her. "Did an investigation not take place?"

"It did, but after a few years there was nothing that changed so the new Earl withdrew his funding."

That was an interesting tidbit. It appeared as though he had some questions to ask the new Earl.

"I must speak with Lord Westmorland."

Baldwin winced, "I believed you might say that. He is currently in the country with his family."

James understood the meaning clearly. He couldn't arrive at the Earl's manor uninvited. Duke or not, it was possible that he would be turned away at the gates. His mind began turning the cogs in his brain. Firstly, he needed to hire a Bow Street Runner. He wasn't sure that the previous man hired were competent enough. As soon as he received proof that Lady Selina was dead—he would be free to do as he pleased. Bloody hell, he still didn't know what his father had been thinking, signing off on an agreement like this. It wasn't as though he could ask him anyways.

Shaking from his thoughts, James stood up and extended his hand. "I would say it has been a pleasure but that would be false, so I'll thank you for the information you have provided."

Baldwin grasped his hand, "I do apologize for delivering such dire news, but it was best to speak with you, lest the information got released to the papers somehow."

James winced; he could imagine the gossip columns eagerness to publish a story like his. It was best to keep this a secret as he investigated the matter further. Retrieving a pouch filled with coins, he placed it on Baldwin's desk. "Use it to purchase a better office, no aristocrat in their right minds will hire you in this upheaval place."

Baldwin's eyes shone with gratitude, causing an uncomfortable feeling to envelope James. Before the solicitor could say anything else, James briskly left the room. He had many tasks to accomplish before he could return to the country.

***

James' walked through the door Martin was holding before passing his hats and gloves to a footman.

"Welcome home Your Grace, I trust that your time in London was pleasant?"

James looked at his butler for a second, "It was in fact, a miserable time."

Martin, used to James' honesty, didn't react as one might. Instead he bowed, "Would you like me to inform the cook to have marzipan for dessert tonight?"

James nodded, it had been quite a while since he'd ate marzipan, maybe it would lighten his terrible mood. Walking to his study, James was aware that his servants seemed to be glancing at him more than usual.

"Is something the matter?" he snapped at one of the maids who stopped dusting the frame of his ancestor's paintings so she could peer at him.

She blushed, dropping the cloth she'd been using. "No, Your Grace," she finally uttered softly.

James entered his study and poured himself a glass of brandy. He deserved it after all the headache he'd been through. James took a sip of the drink before settling into his chair. At least he'd been able to secure a Bow Street Runner. Though the man looked scraggy, when he'd told James that he served at Waterloo, James knew he wouldn't find a better man for the job.

Opening his ledgers, James' frowned when he saw that last week's figures were more than doubled of any other weeks.

"Martin!" 

His butler rushed through the door.

"Get me Mrs. Shrine, something about the ledgers isn't adding up."

James watched closely as Martin's face paled, but the butler didn't say anything. It seemed that he knew something but wasn't sharing. Nonetheless, he would get the information he needed from Mrs. Shrine. She came in a few minutes later.

"You called, Your Grace?"

James pointed behind her, "Shut the door, and have a seat."

Mrs. Shrine did as she was told but he could see her hands shaking as she came closer to his desk. James didn't say anything for a moment and continued to observe her. His housekeeper had been in charge for the last seven years and yet everything had run smoothly—until now.

"Why have the household expenses increased since I left for London?"

Mrs. Shrine winced, "There were a few accidents, Your Grace."

James merely raised an eyebrow, signaling for her to continue.

"A vase was broken—"

"Which one?"

"The blue one in the drawing room Your Grace."

James let out a breath. It was not one of his mothers. He didn't remember what the vase particularly looked like, but it must have been a gift from his great-aunt. She had a particular affinity for vases and had gifted him many over the years. He usually handed them over to a servant and ordered that they be placed in a location that suited them.

"So, the increase in expenditure is due to the purchase of a new vase?"

"Not quite, Your Grace. There was also the incident with a few ingredients such as potatoes, sugar, chocolate that were needed to be purchased once again."

James looked at books at then at Mrs. Shrine, "I can see why the expenses would be greater, but this does not explain the increase in twelve pounds over a week."

Mrs. Shrine produced a paper before carefully handing it over to James. "This might explain it more."

James read the list and his eyes nearly bulged out. Not only was a vase broken, the drapes had mysteriously been torn, the cook had nearly quit until his salary was increased, linens were dyed an unpleasant purple, various kitchen ingredients had gone bad, and his gardens were missing a few hedges.

"What in the bloody hell happened when I was in London?" His manor had always been efficient, with the servants being noticeable when he needed them, and ghosts when he didn't. He never had such issues before.

There was hesitation before Mrs. Shrine spoke, "Many of the incidents occurred because of the new maid we hired, Vivienne."

James placed a hand on his temple. He had nearly forgotten that he instructed his housekeeper to employ the chit—however, to blame her for everything was simply prosperous. He wouldn't have his staff lying to him.

"Do you mean to tell me, one maid was the cause of all this destruction?"

Mrs. Shrine's eyes widened. "If you would allow me to explain the timeline of the events?"

James nodded once.

"Vivienne was first given the position of a maid. She was cleaning the drawing room when the vase fell. We cleaned it up but then I decided it might be better for her to help in the kitchen."

"I assume she didn't fair better in the kitchen?"

"No, Your Grace. She dropped a few ingredients on the floor prompting the anger of the cook and he stated that he would leave. We could only convince him to stay if we increase his pay."

"And so you increased his salary without my permission?"

Mrs. Shrine gulped audibly. "We didn't know what else to do. Nobody could take over his job and to replace him would take too long."

James sighed. His cook was dramatic—as most French people were. The only reason as to why James still kept him was because the man made the best meals in all of England. "Go on then."

"Vivienne then went to help the gardener and accidently cut up the wrong plants. It only got worse, the next day she was in charge of washing the linens but somehow, the colour of the sheets changed. I've been doing my best to look out for her, but it seems hopeless. She tries her best but can't succeed at anything."

James felt a pang of sympathy for what Vivienne might be going through before he brushed it away immediately. He did not employ people who were not capable of completing their tasks. It seemed like the chit was more trouble than what she was worth.

A headache a forming, "Mrs. Shrine, inform Vivienne of her dismissal effective immediately."

Mrs. Shrine's eyes widened in surprise. Did she really expect James to keep a chit merely because she had been out on the streets? He didn't run a successful dukedom by taking pity on everyone he met. Besides, he'd given her the chance to succeed, but she'd fail—that wasn't on James' conscious.

"Write her a recommendation letter so it might be easier for her to seek employment elsewhere."

He saw his housekeeper struggled to form the next few words. "Your Grace, if you would allow me to finish my observations before making a final decision?"

James almost said no but he saw the tears forming in Mrs. Shrine's eyes. Good Lord, she'd become attached to the chit in the last week—but that wasn't James' problem. He could however listen to her, without any intention of changing his actions.

"Very well, what else did you want to say?"

Mrs. Shrine took a deep breath, "I think Vivienne might be a Lady, Your Grace."

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Oops, another cliffhanger ;) On another note, thank you for getting this story to 100 Reads!!!