Book Description
Regency Sons
Captain Jack Ryder
Mr. Harry Feather
His Grace, Grant Neville, the Duke of Stamford
Lord Miles Hawkeswood, second son of Marquess Sterling
Captain Jack Ryder - The Duke's Bastard
Book One
The death of Captain Jack Ryder’s father, the Duke of Stamford, leaves Jack restless. The duchess’ spiteful relatives have made his life a misery, and he wants nothing more than to escape London for a time. Dressed in buckskin breeches, he takes to the road on his horse, Arion, with the intention of visiting his mother’s grave in Ireland. But after one day, events conspire to interrupt his plans.
Jack finds himself not only caught up in a conspiracy of immense proportions, but also in a passionate love affair with a lady he cannot marry. Lady Ashley Lambourne’s father, the Marquess of Butterstone has been murdered, and Jack promises to find his killer.
A close friend of Jack’s from his army days, Harry Feather, heir to one of the largest fortunes in England, faces an arranged marriage to Lady Erina Roundtree. A tall half-Irish beauty, Erina is a spirited lady who makes it plain she doesn’t wish to marry Harry, either. Determined to enjoy a quiet existence after his years fighting Bonaparte, Harry fears Erina will run him ragged. Why he is indulging Erina in one of her harebrained schemes is beyond him when he should marry a quiet woman like Florence Beckworth.
Chapter One
Stamford, Hertfordshire,
1821
The
horses proceeded down the avenue of ancient elms at a solemn pace, their black
plumed heads bowing, as the Duke of Stamford was taken to his last resting
place. His chest tight, Captain Jack Ryder watched the steam flow from the
thoroughbred’s nostrils in the crisp, cold, air.
“Chin up, old fellow.” Harry Feather, heir
to Sir Ambrose, Baronet Feather’s immense fortune, walked beside Jack as they
followed the hearse with a cortège of subdued friends, and relatives, a few of
whom Jack wished to purgatory. The one thing he shared with the duchess’ family
was mutual dislike. Close behind them was his cousin, Grant, heir to the
dukedom, and Grant’s mother, Aunt Elizabeth. Jack was extremely fond of them
both. Aunt Elizabeth had been the closest thing to a mother to him, visiting
him at his boarding school to bring him cakes, she’d made his lonely life
bearable.
Jack scrubbed his hands over his face, as
if the tiredness from too many nights of lost sleep while his father breathed
his last, followed by the ensuing heavy sensation of grief, would be rubbed
away. “Did as much as he could for me. Loved my mother, cared for her until she
died.”
Harry nodded. “Indeed. And not every peer
sends their sons born on the wrong side of the blanket to Oxford.”
“Then agreed albeit reluctantly to my
request to join the army. Feared I’d do something reckless and be killed.”
“He had good reason for it,” Harry said.
“You did behave as if your life wasn’t worth much. Earned you considerable praise
though.”
“If he hadn’t been born a duke, Father
would have married my mother. He was forced into a marriage to a woman he
disliked.”
“Who wasn’t kind to you.”
“Can’t say that, exactly. She never
acknowledged my existence.”
Harry checked if anyone was within earshot.
“The duchess was universally disliked. I’d be surprised if there were many who
shed tears over her deathbed.” He turned back to Jack. “Do you mind that Grant
has inherited Stamford?”
“That drafty pile of stone?” Jack shook his
head. “Why should I? I’ve known since birth it would be this way.”
“Still, Stamford is a magnificent property
and there are other investments.”
“Father left me a living. The
Northumberland farm.”
Harry wound his scarf tighter around his
neck, hunched his shoulders and pulled his hat down over his chestnut hair. “Is
it in good condition?”
“Yes. According to my father’s man of
business. I’ve never been there.”
Harry’s brown eyes widened. “Why not?”
Jack shrugged. “Never had any reason to. It
gives me a modest income, which is all I require.”
“Is that the extent of your inheritance?”
“It’s all I know about. I don’t expect
anything more. Father bought me a commission in the army, and I saw that as a
step on the ladder of life. The rest is up to me.”
“But the war’s long over and now you’ve
resigned your commission...”
“I learned a few life skills during those
years, did not you?”
Harry shrugged. “I suspect you would have
learned them anyway, Jack. All it did for me was make me realize how much I
prefer a life of comfort over trekking through Spain in dreadful conditions and
being shot at.”
“Taught you discipline, toughened you up.
Made you a man, Harry. You aren’t one of those soft indulged sons who waste
their lives whoring and gambling about London.”
Harry smoothed an invisible crease on his
sleeve. “Have no fondness for it. But you should go and sort out that property
after the reading of the will.”
“Mm.” Jack watched the sway of the black
and gold hearse moving along in front of them. He felt cut off at the knees
when he tried to envision the direction his life would take. His father had
given his life meaning and now it was stripped away. “Eventually.”
“You’re in no hurry?”
“No.” Jack drew his grief around him like a
shroud, took a deep breath, and made a decision. “You know, being a bastard
gives a man certain advantages.”
“Oh? What would they be?”
“I can go wherever I like without any call
on my time. No parliament, no bending the knee to King George and his set.”
“Some might care about those things.”
“Well, it’s a good thing I don’t. Nothing
can change it, can it?”
“You’re accepted in society, Jack. People
like you.”
“Some do. Maybe some just liked my father.”
Scattering fallen leaves, the hearse
approached Stamford village churchyard where, hunkered down in the cold,
villagers waited to see off a popular duke.
“What do you intend to do next?” Harry
asked. “Continue with your rooms in Town?”
“No. I’m going to travel.”
“Really? No desire for it. Saw enough
during the war.”
“Not the Continent. The British Isles. And
not as a well-heeled gentleman.” The plan formed in Jack’s mind. “I’ll travel light
like we did in the army. Just a small portmanteau, and Arion, my faithful
stallion. I’ve seen little of my own country.”
Harry shuddered and murmured something
derogatory about how badly dressed he’d be, as the horses pulled the hearse to
a halt before the family’s enormous stone mausoleum.
Jack, with a deep anguished breath, took
his place with the other pall bearers to carry his father’s coffin inside the
stone edifice.
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