Dedicated Undeniably to You

By Samantha Chandler

Fate does love good choreography so while reading Dedicated Undeniably To You listen to the waltz metaphorically danced by the concepts of love and marriage. Is marriage really the duty of each man or is it an emotional and soulful dedication that undeniably belongs to one special lady? Fate has plans for Lord Christopher Jared, the future Duke of Darenth. Although he proclaims that the notions of love and marriage are truly lost on him, his time is drawing near in which his resolve will be put to the test. He will soon learn that the contractual obligation to marry as established by his Father will not be what changes his life. What will alter his world will be the force of his own heart that has willingly underestimated the power of falling in love happily ever after.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Sep 29, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465367228

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

England, January 1819

The library was always his favorite place to contemplate the future, his future. He had to face the fact that his last year of freedom was over. It seemed like he had all the time in the world before the day came when he would surrender to what his father called his duty. His duty, although not to his country in the line of war or a great cause for the common good, seemed to him the most ultimate of sacrifices. For this very year, he would be a married man.

Christopher Jared, the future Duke of Darenth, had been promised on the day of his birth to marry the first daughter of Lord Nelson Bilingsley, one of the most powerful men in England. Miranda Bilingsley had been tutored, instructed, and lectured in all that was necessary in becoming the next Duchess of Darenth. His future wife had been sculpted like a fine piece of art to meet exactly the requirements of an English nobleman and, presumably, everything a man could need or want. Christopher had always lived with the idea that he would marry Lord Bilingsley’s daughter, but so many other things had occupied his time and energies that this minute detail frankly never lingered on his mind for long. It was inconceivable that the time was coming near when he would formally meet, court, and wed this person in one year’s time. Now, not even his wealth could buy what he had taken for granted. Money could not stop time. His freedom had been sold.

This morning as he looked out into the east gardens, not even the splendid sunrise cleared his mind so he could address all the items relative to the estate that was pending with need for immediate attention. These items had been put aside due to his father’s lack of health. The doctors called it a serious stroke, but all that was clear to Christopher was his father needed to rest so he could recover.

The day would come when he would be the Duke of Darenth and assume the responsibility of his legacy, following his father’s footsteps. The stroke had made that all too clear. It is a stark revelation that your parents are always there to guide you, and it is difficult even as you become older that they won’t be there forever. His father had always been an essential part of his life. Even in times when he was overwhelmed with his obligations, his father found time to spend with his family, and those times were valuable to Christopher and his younger brother William.

But like all great men, there was always one hidden flaw. Although a genius in taking his inherited wealth and making it multiply by virtue of trade and finance, his father had little to no organizational capabilities. This was evident when Christopher opened the ledgers, which contained the various accounts and vested interests, and closed them an hour later, only to pray for divine intervention. He tried to organize the tenants and their properties and found a puzzle at best. At first, he thought it might be because his own mind was clouded with worry and his concentration poor, but later he realized that he needed professional help.

The mood he was in was evident in his face, his stance, and the rigidity of his form. As his mother walked into the library and looked upon her firstborn, she knew he was not a happy man. Two issues were heavy on his mind, and she sensed the apprehension and distress as he looked away from his desk, almost spellbound by his own thoughts. Christopher had always had a special relationship with his father, and it was hard for him to conceive his father in any way but strong. She also knew that the marriage contract that virtually tied her son to a woman he barely knew was quickly approaching. Although very popular among the ton, she was among the counted few who did not agree with contractual agreements of marriage, at least not for her willful son. Now Christopher had convinced himself that he was to take on the burden of an unwanted wife. She knew in her heart that the only thing he needed more than his priceless freedom was to love and be loved. This concept had made him and his brother flourish throughout their childhood, and it was no different now at the age of nine and twenty. It is such a simple concept—to listen to your heart—and yet so unpopular a notion among today’s society, especially the English ton. Her husband had been adamant in respect to the future of his heir and sought to secure his son’s happiness through the only means he felt totally in control of, the world in which everything was negotiated, written, and blessed by a solicitor. In negotiating his heir’s future, albeit divorce of emotion, he understood that his son and his fortune would be taken care of. Christopher’s struggle was clear; his duty to his father warred against the duty to himself. This was the inner battle Christopher was trying to conquer.

Christopher my dear, the day seems to bring with it promises of hope. Your father always says that freshly fallen snow and rays of sunshine are God’s way of giving us a clean piece of paper to scribble our thoughts on, she said as she sat near the fireplace.

He turned slowly and gave his mother the warmest smile he had given anyone in days, for she could bring sunshine in a room on a dreary rainy day, and he knew that these days even her spirits ran low. Amanda Jared, Duchess of Darenth, had a regal appearance that could only be described as elegant. She was fair skinned and had black hair streaked with gray that complemented her vivid green eyes. She wore her hair pulled back from her face in a low bun and dressed today in a dark-green gown slightly fitted and trimmed in black velvet. She did not represent her age. Time had been kind to her. She was not a tall woman, but as she walked into a room, she carried a style that was genuine to her alone. There was no escaping the fact that the lady was someone to look up to and admire. He relaxed for a moment and wondered what gave his mother the glow that made you feel like everything was going to be all right just by looking her way.

How are you feeling, Mother? You look more rested, he said as he walked over and took her hands and kissed her forehead.

I have hope your father will get stronger little by little by relieving some of the pressure that comes with being the Duke of Darenth. But I do worry that all these pressures have been transferred to you.

You need not worry, Mother. I was thinking of hiring a private solicitor to help me with the organization of Father’s affairs. I think all should be in order considering my doomsday is growing near. The next couple of months will surely be full of eventful and meaningful tasks like selecting linens and china patterns.

The pitiful look she gave him almost drove him to the brandy at nine o’clock in the morning. This was going too far; he couldn’t even play this entire marriage thing off as a joke with his own mother. Did she actually feel sorry for him? Dear God, was she going to bring up those notions of love again?

Ever since they were little, he and his brother found it amusing when they managed to spark their mother’s temper or her wit, whichever came first in any particular situation. It made being mischievous much more rewarding. There were times when both boys would walk into breakfast arguing about who would take the credit for placing the toads in the morning porridge, only to laugh uncontrollably when their mother would seem ready to pass out at the thought of such an accomplishment. He rarely revealed his sense of humor much as an adult, although reminiscing about his adventures with William did lighten his mood. What times they had. He smiled to himself as he remembered the time when he and William tied all the servants’ shoes and laces in knots to form the biggest imaged garden snake that had dared grace their grandmother’s garden. It had taken hours for the servants to retrieve their shoes, and both he and William had agreed it was well worth the two hours’ wait for breakfast that day.

Their mother had been livid.

Both he and his brother had been punished, and there was still that unfinished business that was never clear about finding the upstairs maid’s slippers in the very married head butler’s closet. That day, he suspected that growing up was going to be interesting if anything. Yet at night, when they had gone to bed, both he and William heard his father and mother laughing about the day’s events. They went to bed punished but fell asleep smiling at the sound coming from the parlor near the study.

His thought jumped years back to the present as he pondered his situation. What a predicament he was in with this agreement. An agreement made when he was still learning to walk. His father believed in marriage by contract, and his mother believed in marriage and love. He was doomed. What was wrong with discreet relationships with a palette of unclingy females that left him free and unrestricted? This thought brought him full circle to his younger brother. Where was William? Next time he saw his brother, he was going to box his ears. At five and twenty, William was free and unrestricted. While William was busy planning his next adventure, his immediate expectations needed to be centered on meeting with his future in-laws and his made-to-order bride. Presently, this was a high source of amusement for William, and he took all the opportunities he could to bask in the good fortune of being second for once.

Really, Christopher, it can’t be all that bad. Your father met young Miranda and said she had promise and found her quite spirited, she said reassuringly.

His mother’s voice brought him back from his reminiscing. Mother, those are terms you could use in describing the purchase of a horse, he said as he looked to his desk.

How could you possibly talk about your future marriage as ‘doomsday’? Marriage is not a terminal condition, and to compare your future wife to a horse, really, Christopher. Your father and I have been married for thirty-five years, and I have never had a better companion. She rarely needed to raise her voice to make her point. Her tone was enough to dress down her sons when needed, clearly expressing her disappointment. Both boys would have preferred an angry retort to knowing that they had made their mother unhappy.

This was not his day. I’m sorry, Mother, forgive me. Sometimes I’m as sensitive as a man too ignorant to know when to be quiet. I do believe in marriage, your marriage. But this condition is really not for me. I’m going to make this poor lady very unhappy. I’m used to my freedom, I’m not good at compromising, and a perfect wife for me is not one who is accomplished but one who is invisible.

Most found Christopher to be a man of high expectations and very definite standards. It was well understood; no one crossed the future Duke of Darenth for when his temper flared, it was not a pretty sight to hear or see. Approximately six foot four, his long hard body was little less than perfect. He had a broad chest and strong arms and a tightly sculptured upper torso. His legs could only be described as powerful. His face was beautifully featured by an authoritative mouth and the warmest brown eyes any woman would care to be graced with. When he stared, his look penetrated your very soul, and when he looked away, there was a longing deep inside that forced you to try and regain his attention. His hair was brown with highlights of gold that were only evident by the glow of candlelight. He wore his hair long, and he had not shaved in weeks. But although his appearance was not appreciated by his mother, the rugged appeal was enough to make any woman feel just slightly warm.

Nonsense, Christopher, I think you should at least give this situation a chance, she said. Being lost for any alternative, all he did was nod as if consenting to her wishes and honestly wanting to entertain another subject much more important in his priorities.

The duchess, realizing the need to change the subject, decided to address that which she knew was foremost in his mind.

In terms of hiring a solicitor, she said, I believe your father has used one very experienced gentleman for years, and although Albert is getting on in his years, he remains one of the most accomplished men I know. He has counseled your father in the past. You might write him and ask him if he’s available.

Actually, Mother, I was planning on going to London and speaking to him personally. Father has spoken highly of Lord Albert in the past. Due to the delicate nature of father’s health, I’m thinking of asking him to reside here at Orchard Manor until I can manage to get these affairs in order. I think this would help me as well keep things close to home for as long as necessary, he said, relieved at last at the change in subject.

I think that’s a splendid idea, she said, sounding very pleased with him. Not only would that help you, but it would mean a great deal to your father to have Albert here with him. I believe he has a ward, Charlie, that helps him with all his work. Your father will enjoy Albert’s company when he’s not working with you, and I’m sure you and Charlie will find a common ground in the future of Orchard Manor. I’ll go and tell your father the news. Will you be dining with us this evening? she said, surprisingly cheerful all of a sudden.

I don’t think so, Mother. I think the earlier I leave for London, the sooner I’ll be back. I don’t want to be away too long. I was thinking of leaving within the hour. I will send word to you if I am detained for any reason.

Please be careful and return safe.

As she turned and walked away, he could not help but admire the way she maintained herself even in times like these. There had been times when he had gone to his father’s chambers to say good-night only to find his mother next to his bed, holding his hand, asleep with fresh tears streaking her face. They were always a very energetic couple, always planning an event or another, and now his father didn’t have much energy to share. How lucky he and William had been by being given the chance to know these two people. It was odd though; the way she had left the library, you would think she had been given an invitation to dine with the royal family. There was bounce in her step, and he could have sworn she was humming.

CHAPTER TWO

He left the confines of his haven and walked down the loggia with the authority he had been born with. The servants knew the future lord of the house well. He had rules, and he hated them broken. His presence was always felt, and it was not clear if it was because his physical stature dwarfed most of the household staff or because when he spoke his voice sounded like a menacing thunderstorm, deep and fully in charge. As he passed the great hall and went outside into the arrival courtyard, he called for Joseph, his manservant.

Yes, Lord Christopher. I asked the stableboy to have your horse ready for your departure. The carriage will ride behind in case his lordship cares to relax instead of riding the entire way.

Most nobility rode inside the carriage. Christopher found it boring and restrictive unless, of course, he was accompanied by a female guest. Then the carriage held great promise.

Dispense with the carriage, Joseph. I will not need it for this ride.

Yes, my lord, Joseph replied without preamble. Even though Joseph was part of his staff, he was the grandfather and confidant he sometimes needed. It was uncanny how Joseph knew what were in his true thoughts. Joseph married but had not had any children of his own, and he and Agatha, his wife, had adopted Chris and William in spirit and in heart.

I won’t be long, Joseph. Let Will know I’ll be back in three days, four at tops. Keep an eye on Mother and help her take care of things until I get back, he said as he mounted his horse and headed toward London.

As he rode away from Orchard Manor, he could not help but be filled with pride at his father’s estate. Orchard Manor was a romantic architectural composition. Truth be told, this was no manor. This was more like a castle in sheer size. The name was given to the grounds by his great-great-grandfather due to the endless groves of oak trees that provided a lush greenbelt that encircled the property. It seemed, as you approached the manor, that the architect had cleared only what he needed to site the home, aware of the true beauty of the surrounds and understanding the need to preserve and protect the landscape gifted by nature.

An L-shaped structure had been added to the manor by his great-grandfather along with a great hall and a gateway. These additions resulted in a cloister, which formed the grand arrival courtyard. The cloister with connecting groined vaulted arches married the main structures to the great hall. So spectacular was this hall that it was given a name. It was called the Jewel. The Jewel was where all the gatherings, balls, and ceremonies happened at Orchard Manor. His mother would make it her mission to dress this room in the spirit of the event being hosted. The room was definitely female because even though it was forever changing in style, the room always looked exquisite as it donned the details of the event at hand. This hall, much like a grand lady, was dressed for each fine gala and was waited upon by all the servants who delighted with anticipation of each ceremony.

Upon facing the main entrance, the visitor was greeted by the double-height entrance loggia of the home. Before entering the courtyard, the guest was treated to a teasing view of the Jewel before being escorted to either parlor to the right or left of the main loggia. The courtyard was lavished with formal gardens that softened the crisp lines of the articulated cloister circulation. There was immediate balance by the first introduction of the home, a balance that brought about a sigh of tranquility and order. A glimpse of the formal gardens to the east and west of the manor provided by articulated portals guided a visual procession that discovered the distant views framing the English countryside. Both views had been definitely planned and well orchestrated.

The manor stood as a castle. The high-pitched roofs and the brick-lined facade commanded full attention from the beautiful English countryside, which embraced the structure like an old and warm shawl around a very grateful friend.

As Christopher left Orchard Manor, legendary oaks lined his path providing a welcomed canopy for miles. As he rode through the lacework of shadows this day provided the pebbled road, he tried to focus on his goals: organize his father’s affairs and survive the following months with or without plenty of brandy. As he rode, his mind cleared. He would concentrate on the projects at hand and hope the arrival of his betrothed was not immediate.

London

Charlotte knew she had to finish her cleaning soon. She had taken down all the books in her uncle’s bookcase as she dusted and cleaned his office. Highly allergic to dust, her uncle sneezed his way through every morning for the last month. The maid that cleaned